The Confessional
by Ikonopeiston
Summary: In his own words, Nooj records his meeting with the other three and his impressions at that time. This is the conclusion of this part of the story.
1. Default Chapter

I do not own the characters, the plot or the other little bits and pieces to be found here. They are the property of Square/Enix. I do own the thoughts I have placed in the heads and the words I have used to express those thoughts.

The dates at the beginnings of the various entries into this journal are to be read as: year of the current Sin, month, day. So 197S9.8.42 is – the forty-second day of the eighth month of the ninth year of the one hundred ninety seventh incarnation of Sin.

**The Confessional**

Part One:

So here I am, finally away from the hospitals and rehabilitation – finally free of all the people who want to touch me and tell me how to live now that I managed to miss dying by so narrow a margin. They think I should be so grateful and happy just to continue to breathe the air. Fools! When I was packing my remaining few possessions to come here to wait to see what would be done with me, I found that the communicator I ... er ... 'liberated' before my most recent encounter with Sin was still there, buried beneath some dirty laundry in the bottom of my duffel bag. It still works; they made those first ones strong - no doubt about that. I suppose, as a man of honour, I should feel guilty about retaining this device. I do not. We were instructed to salvage what we could from the dead piled like driftwood on the beach. Weapons and armor were in short supply - as usual - and so were all other useful items. Had I not picked up the communicator, the next tide would have buried it or taken it out to sea. So I did no wrong. I would have turned it in with the other salvage had I not forgotten in the rush as we moved on to the next assembly point. Now this thing is so battered and out of date, it is a miracle it still functions and no one but me is likely to want it. It is a metaphor for my life. Except that not even I want my life.

As I was about to say before I became maudlin and defensive, I have just discovered this communicator in addition to its capacity to transmit and receive messages has a device to record notes and reports. Since I have nothing better to do until I am given fresh orders, I think I will use it to hold my observations. Who can tell? There may come a time when it will be valuable to have some sort of reminder of what happened here and how. If it all turns out as badly as I suspect it will, there may be charges to be brought and it will be useful to have documentation of the facts as I see them. Now, I think I have the time stamp set properly ... Yes, that's it.

197S9.8.42

When the Crusaders decided they no longer had a place for me, they sent me here. Here being the Mushroom Rock Road where the Maesters are assembling some sort of cadre for some sort of special mission. The rumor is that they are planning to train a group of soldiers to take command over the decimated remnants of the Crusaders themselves. I had not heard that my old unit had been so misused although I am not surprised, given the stupidity of those who ultimately issued the orders. I think I would have been more surprised if any great number of my old comrades had survived this long. But there is no logic in the idea of taking a rag-tag group of disparate individuals and trying to turn them into disciplined Warriors who can command the loyalty of of hardened veterans. It would be wiser to create officers from the ranks as we always did. This entire project stinks of dishonesty.

Still I have no other place to go now that the vivisectionists are done with me, so here I am. The main gathering area is up the road a bit. It is so crowded I am unable to bear the stench and the constant touching which is the inevitable result of so many filthy men and women - they do not distinguish - crushed together. I left my name and the tone code for this device with the one who seemed to be in charge and came here to this place. Here I can make a nest behind the statue of the Hero and be alone to think about this thing they are trying to pass off as a plan.

I do not understand why I was no longer acceptable to the Crusaders. I have led men there and they have followed willingly, eagerly. True, I am no longer a swordsman; you need agility and accurate footwork for that. But I have trained with firearms of varying sizes and weights and am an adequate marksman in spite of the fact my visual acuity is not what it was. The spectacles atone for that. I can still hold my own in battle and I am sure soon I shall be able to dispense with the cane. I am still a Warrior ... they cannot take that away from me. Not ever.

The noise from down the road is increasing and I almost think I can smell the reek of the unwashed bodies from here. If they are this dirty now, I shudder to think how they will be when they are actually on the march or in bivouac. Disgusting. And this is what they say they are planning to use to make into an elite unit. It is a fraud. I do not know what they are plotting but it is not the formation of an elite force.

The one to whom I gave my name - he recognized it even though he did not dare to say anything to my face. I wonder how many others he will tell. 'Nooj, the Undying, is here, going to be a part of us.' I suppose I should have used another name. ... I may be developing a sense of humor - as if I could hide under another name. I may be the most recognizable man on the surface of Spira. Or maybe I flatter myself. I am going in circles with this.

I hear we are to be assigned to small groups. I wonder if they will name a leader or leave it to each group to choose its own. I hope I am not compelled to deal with amateurs; they get in my way and do not understand the code of the military man. And I have not the patience to teach them. Oh well, if they are amateurs, they will never realize what my real purpose is so that may work to my advantage.

Here I go again, theorizing without data. It will be better to sleep. Rest is always in short supply once training begins.

197S9.8.43

Today was a busy day. Finally something happened. I have been placed in a team with two amateurs - an Al Bhed and a Yevonite. The former is an arrogant one-eyed bastard and the latter is a more of a child than I feel comfortable having as a comrade in a fight. Naturally, they selected me to be leader and I had to bring them back here to my asylum. It is my duty to protect and take care of them. Damn!

The Head Weapons Master recognized me. He did not use my name, thank Ixion. But he knew me all right. And the Gippal (if I have his name right; it is a barbaric word.) creature kept staring at me. I do not know why. He is a vulgar man with no control of his behavior or his tongue. The priestling, named - Baralai? - is too gentle to ever make a Warrior; I must question him to learn if he has other skills which might suffice to gain his admission to this unlikely force. For some reason, I am reluctant to see him go.

We were given weapons, machina ones. I have a monster firearm which has more controls than a hover. It apparently shoots both pellets of some sort as well as flames. It is not like those I learned to use in the rehabilitation center, but I shall master its ways quickly enough.

The Weapons Master informed me, respectfully, that we can expect to be told where we will be sent for training in a day or so. And it seems the Recorders have been delayed at sea for some reason, probably the usual incompetence, and will not be assigned for several more days. All the normal efficiency of a camp run by the Maesters.

The other two are finally sleeping. Now I can get some rest. Why is that Cyclopean boor staring at me? I can feel his eye on me even when he is asleep. I miss my sword; a gun is no weapon for a real man.

197S9.8.44

The sun is up and the others are still sleeping. I shall go down to that spring I located and wash before I have to start dealing with their problems and teaching them some military discipline. I never feel like myself until I am clean. I will tell them about the spring when they finish their dreams. Wonder if they are accustomed to washing regularly? One never knows.

The little one - why do I keep saying that? He is not so little; he is taller than the Al Bhed. The - Yevonite - is drooling in his sleep. He looks like a child with that fine white hair and smooth brow. And the - Gippal - is at least turned away and not staring at me with that eye behind the patch. Wonder how he lost it. Probably in some kind of drunken brawl. It is none of my business. I simply do not care enough to pry into their pasts and besides, there will not be enough time to bother with it.

I do not understand why I am taking the trouble to train these two since I shall not be doing it for the usual reason ... to save my own life. Thank Shiva I was given two neophytes; they will not understand what I am doing while I hunt my death. They will just think I am brave. I must teach them not to follow me too closely. There is nothing to be served by getting them killed as well.

Damn! It is hard to get up without something to pull up to. The arm is all right but this leg is too stiff even now after all this time. I hate the damned cane. And debris is always sifting into the open connections. Why didn't they seal these places like they did the ones on the torso? More inefficiency.

Well, off to wash before the Al Bhed wakes up and wants to accompany me. He seems to have an unhealthy passion for staring at me. If he is one with such desires, I must explain to him about the 'battle boys' since my tastes lie elsewhere. Mostly.

In the progress of training or warring, when alternatives are few, a man takes his comfort where and as he can. A few such episodes do not define the man. I do not know how many children I may have left scattered about the planet. I am not always as careful as I might be. Those seedlings of mine prove my bent.

They are beginning to stir; I must hurry - as much as I can. I fear I am no longer a runner.

It seems I need not have been concerned with losing my solitude. The barbarian and the priestling have vanished. I should have expected it, I suppose. Desertion is not rare when the amateurs discover what they are in for. The one-eyed outlaw obviously realized he could not bend his so-called free spirit to the discipline required of regular forces and took off to find his own band of brigands. And the failed priest, poor boy, I suspect the very thought of actually killing made him vomit up his guts. I hope the Al Bhed did not take that tender creature with him into a life of rough living and rude men.

Ah, it is out of my hands now. I shall study this bedamned machina firearm a little longer. I think I am on the verge of understanding the controls. The buttons are marked with symbols which are susceptible to comprehension. It should not take long for me to decipher them. Then I shall go back to that stinking main camp to report the desertions and request assignment to a fresh team - and hope this time I draw one with staying power.

I should have remembered - this is the history of putting together an army. Make a loud outcry, collect as many fools as possible with the greatest urgency that can be managed, rush, rush, rush. Then drag your heels and waste time. I should be used to it by now. But I do not seem to have the patience I once did. I am in a hurry to reach my own goal. And I will seek it alone if necessary.

Things do not always occur as one might expect or even wish. Just as I was preparing to go down to the main gathering to report the absence of the other two assigned to this team, the communicator sounded. When I responded, I was informed the recorder due the team had arrived and I should come collect him. Then, on my way down to the specified location, I encountered the pair of supposed deserters just coming into the defile which houses this secret den of mine. They looked flushed and uncomfortable to see me and had that hazy look one gets after an amorous episode. So! The Al Bhed has his personal battle boy, does he? And one nicely at hand. This means the priestling will be useless when we finally meet the enemy but I never expected much from him anyway. I hope they will wash before I have to be in their company again. I am offended by the stench of sex outside the bed chamber. They have been told the way to water, but will they take the hint?

Wishing to leave them to themselves until they had done with their canoodling, I continued on to the base. Dust, confusion and people milling about like so many heads of cattle. The image is not that far off; the vast majority of those who enlist are headed straight to the abattoirs. I see no signs of any effort to actually teach these innocents what to do to save their own lives, let alone the lives of their teammates. That's a laugh. Why should I care? My job is to find a way to terminate my own existence as efficiently as possible. At least, I will not go down for no reason and not uselessly. I fully intend to take a goodly number of Sin spawn with me. It would be pleasurable to take the parent creature as well but I dast not set my sights that high. No, it will be enough to find the time and place to die with honor, keeping my word as well as I may.

When I reached the principal tent, I was hailed by the officer in charge – the one who recognized me – and drawn aside into a smaller connected area. With an exasperated sigh, he shoved a tall, thin woman into my chest with the announcement she was our group recorder. And he was gone.

I disengaged myself from the woman who has the most extraordinary red-brown eyes and pewter hair although she is still young, younger than I in any event. She stood there like a bull pup, belligerent with her arms folded over her chest. Then her eyes widened as she noticed the anomalies which make up my body and an uncertain look replaced the defiance in her eyes.

It seemed to me to be a good idea to take advantage of her momentary confusion since I am not fond of brutalizing women, so I slapped her shoulder and told her to follow me and led her out of the tent. She obediently walked just behind me as I marched away from the crowded meat market and into the only slightly less packed road. When we reached the crevice which houses my chosen space, I stopped and confronted her.

I demanded her name and experience. Never let it be said I showed favoritism to the supposedly weaker sex. Although I had not expected the recorder to be female, I will treat her exactly as I do the two men under my command.

It seems she is called Paine and claims to be proficient with the sword. I am pleased with her attitude. Someone has obviously taught her how to respond to her leader.

I told her she was unlikely to be using a sword and instructed her to practice her sphere work. I was glad to see her looking straight ahead like a proper recruit, not staring at me. She nodded briskly. No unnecessary words for that one.

I smiled, which seemed to upset her somewhat, and told her where to find water to refresh and clean herself then pointed her to the lift and instructed her to join the rest of the team when she was ready. She hoisted her backpack and the awkward camera and strode off without looking back. I think she will be a fine addition to the team. Much more of a man than the little one. And more biddable than the Cyclops.

06/05/055181298


	2. Chapter 2

**The Confessional**

Part Two:

197S9.8.45

The job of introducing the entire team to the concept of military discipline has been finished at last. I have had less trouble with entire brigades than with this group of three misfits. The Recorder is prepared to take instructions although whether she can control her emotions sufficiently to carry them out is another question altogether. Yes, I know women are quite as adequate as men in most of the battlefield positions. I would just like to know more about the temperament of this red-eyed silently watchful female before I trust her to obey me without question when it is required. I think I shall give her some private time in order to gauge her mettle. It seems there will be plenty of time for that as the other two are so engrossed in one another. Bah! Carnal appetites have their place but not in the midst of training for war.

The Al Bhed - I suppose I really should start using his name - may shape up if I can knock some of the arrogance out of him. He thinks because he is the survivor of a race decimated by Sin, he is some sort of expert on the proper techniques for fighting the monster. If his people had possessed any concept of how to battle the creature, he would not be one of the few survivors but would be a general in a triumphant army. I am going to also have to tell him how uncomfortable I am with his constant staring at me. I had thought it was due to his sexual proclivities but with a battle-boy in his clutches it must be something else. I fear he may be one of those with a vulgar interest in how I was resurrected, or something like that. I had thought that would be more the province of the failed priest ... Ah, I shall stop wondering and ask when I next have the opportunity.

As for Baralai, he looks to Gippal whenever I give an order or try to explain the proper way to behave. He will have to be broken of that. I am his commander, his officer; the Cyclops is his lover. He will have to be taught to tell the two apart, instantly and clearly. Or I shall request he be assigned to the chaplain corps and away from my responsibility. I will not be out-ranked by a gunsel under my own command. Not even by implication.

It has been a tiring day so far; I think I will find Paine and begin her individual instruction. No, it will be better to postpone that effort. I am bored having to repeat again – and at the elementary level – all those rules and responses I have to teach neophytes in order to keep them alive long enough to be useful. To be truthful, I miss the professionalism of the Crusaders, the self-assured air of men and women who knew what they must do and how to do it. We are not even given uniforms in this mockery of an army, not even patches to enable us to identify one another in the dust and turmoil of a real skirmish. I am beginning to detect something of the method these Maesters are employing. They impress me as wanting us to fight amongst ourselves and save them the effort of finding the best of us. It would not surprise me to learn they intend to pit us against one another until only the number they need is still standing. They are wasteful bastards.

197S9.8.46

If this is to be a true record of what happens during the course of this misguided and mistaken adventure in military malfeasance, I suppose I should include my own prejudices lest hiding them should come to be seen as distortion of the truth.

I am a fully trained and disciplined former member of the Crusaders. I was a swordsman of note before a near fatal encounter with Sin spawn cost me my left arm and leg. By rights I should have died as I should have died other times in my career which has been marked, in honesty, by courage and honour. I was known as 'Nooj, the Undying' at the time of my injuries because I took no care to preserve my own life during battles and had escaped both death and serious injury more often than seemed possible to those who took notice of such things. My life has been continued through the offices of Al Bhed engineers and surgeons who implanted into me – without my permission and to my utter disgust – synthetic limbs, prostheses which have transformed me into a cripple fit only for service in this motley and untutored mass of adventurers. I do not belong here.

As a result of my history, I am placed in command of three of the most inept, unlikely recruits in the history of warfare: an outlaw Al Bhed with no talent for obedience, a failed priest who is something less than a man, and a woman from who knows where who might be a Warrior were she a man or had she been trained from infancy in the ways of the warrior. Fah! They are like a handful of pebbles picked up at random and given me to polish into jewels. I shall do my best; I always do but there is scant hope of turning them into anything worthy of the arms they carry.

In addition to the impossible task set before me, I am now resolved to die when I can find a place and time worthy of my death. I will not live in this broken carapace which demeans me with every step. I was a swift and useful Warrior. Now I am halting, dependent upon a cane for my very balance, unable to use a sword and condemned to this absurd cadre of the unfit. Here, in the privacy of my confessions, I declare myself Deathseeker, one who will actively court the embrace of Nothingness. I am alone and shall remain thus until I can manage to rid myself of this loathsome life.

I am having continual trouble with the machina leg. Debris keeps sifting into the joints and hindering their smooth workings. I am forced to spend a disproportionate amount of time with small improvised tools cleaning the areas of cable and pulley which comprise the knee and ankle. There is no discernible reason why these sensitive spots could not have been sealed in the same manner the chest was sealed. Ran out of money, I expect or got bored with the project. Al Bhed are not the most intellectually acute race on this planet. They are inclined toward short attention spans and a taste for novelty over competence. Another nuisance is the tendency of the internal connections to get clogged with small particles attracted by the oil used to keep them moving. It is necessary for me to renew the lubrication at inconveniently frequent intervals. All this is time consuming and worse, makes me feel unclean. Sometimes I lie awake in the night and think I can feel the dust adhering to the bits and pieces which go to make up my left leg. Then I would like to tear it off and disassemble it into its components and dip them in acid to clean them once and for all. Ugh!

While I am airing my grievances, if only to my own ears, I might also mention the pain. This damnable leg was affixed to what remained of my living thigh with rods sunk through the flesh and attached to the bone. Any awkward movement, of which there are many, or twist of the limb – which occurs whenever I step clumsily on a stone or slip on sand – wrenches those rods and causes acute pain, almost like breaking the bone. Naturally, I do not permit a cry or expression of discomfort to pass my lips or appear on my face. However, the experience alone is exhausting and contributes to my difficulties in preparing myself for full service again.

Ah – this is ridiculous. I should erase the last section of this recording; it is nothing but a catalogue of complaints and unworthy of a man. No. Let it stay to remind me not to whine and whimper in public. Let it remind me of my imperfections. It has, if nothing else, diverted me from brooding about that new recruit. I cannot understand why she is invading my thoughts like this. I am not a callow youth with no experience with women. She is no beauty but ... there is something.

197S9.8.47

Well, I am not certain just what I accomplished during the past several hours. Gippal and Baralai were off together on some sort of private exploration. (I will not trouble myself with speculation about who was exploring whom and in what manner.) In line with my intentions earlier in the week, I decided to take the opportunity to learn more about the talents of our newest member, the Recorder, Paine. She is a quiet one who does not volunteer much information and before I lead a squad into battle, I prefer to know as much as possible about their individual abilities.

The woman came willingly enough at my call and we found a private place where we would not be interrupted no matter how long the conversation. I inquired into her experiences both with weapons and recorders and she answered with no apparent hesitation. It seems she is an orphan, like so many others in this world, one who has chosen to fight back against the force which took her family rather than to indulge in perpetual grieving. I applaud that; it shows a toughness of mind I always seek in my troops. She says she is skilled with the sword and to a lesser extent with the lighter fire-arms and, barring any evidence of falsehood, I must take her at her word. I have advised her to carry a projectile rifle since that will be the most universally useful weapon she can bear and the scarcity of arms will prevent her from having a sword as well. She listens intently and I can almost see her making mental notes of what I am saying to her. She is, by far, the best of the three I now command. With proper discipline, she will make a more than adequate Warrior.

As I said, she does not talk much and so I was surprised when she began to question me about my past. I don't like to talk about it and was astonished to hear my own voice telling her things I have never mentioned save in the confessional of my own head. I confess I do not know how things progressed to the point where I permitted her to touch me, to enlace her fingers with the rods of my gloved left hand. Or how my right hand found its place in her pewter hair, stroking through the short strands and caressing the elegant shape of her skull. Naturally, I drew back at once and apologized. I caught a quickly hidden smile on her lips but she could not hide the glitter in her red-brown eyes. I have never seen eyes that color before. Enough!

I had not thought to have faced this problem so soon. I have not lain with a woman since my encounter with Sin spawn, the encounter which left me as I am. The physicians have assured me there is no reason to think my capacity in that arena should be impaired, but ... There are the deep, disgusting scars on my body from the wounds, places where the flesh looks as though it has been melted and re-hardened into a discolored waxy state. And the machina which are now a permanent part of me. What woman would want to find all that in her bed? I suppose I could have recourse to the whores who are always present where armies are or the battle boys if the physical needs grow too pressing. I am fortunate in that I have great control over the appetites of my body and that the control extends over all the appetites. Still ... No more thought. From the brooding comes the desire. I think I will go down to that pond and wash. The water is refreshingly cold and I can be alone there.

06/05/055181295


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: It should be noted that the dividers - xxxxxxx - indicate the recording device has been clicked off by Nooj. They do not necessarily indicate the passage of a day. The time stamp tells you when a full day has passed.

**The Confessional**

**Part Three:**

197S9.8.50

I did not record in this device yesterday nor the day before that. Nothing of any importance happened and I bore even myself with the repetition of the same complaints and commentary. I have just noticed from the time stamp that the month at its end and I have been here for nearly a full week. It seems much longer, to be truthful. I had heard we would be shipping out to the training camps by the beginning of the ninth month. That would seem to be another lie – or miscalculation as the mouths of the Maesters express it. Oh well – maybe by the end of the tenth month, if any of these pathetic excuses for recruits are still around by then.

More and more wasted effort. By the time I get some military discipline or knowledge hammered into the heads of the lovers, we are told to expect more delay before we proceed to the formal training and those two wander off into their paradise for fools and forget everything I've said. Bah!

At least, I now know why the Al Bhed was staring at me so intently when we first met. He fancies himself something of an engineer and is longing for a chance to tinker with the machina which serve as my left arm and leg. It seems they are of a new and highly advanced design of which he had only heard before actually seeing them in use by a living man. I think he is lusting for me to have some sort of accident so that he can swoop to the rescue and take one of my limbs apart and see how it works. Snotty little one-eyed bastard! However, he did come upon me dealing with the lubrication problem and showed me the most effective way to get oil into the less accessible areas so I suppose I should be glad to have a technician conveniently to hand. If I just didn't think he wanted to disassemble me.

Baralai continues to be more decorative than useful. If we had the manpower to spare, it would be worth while having an objet d'art around the camps but, as it is, we need fighters. I wonder if I could get away with switching assignments between him and Paine. She is more than twice the Warrior he is. I engaged her in a mock duel the other day, using staves instead of the swords we do not have available. She has quick feet and steely wrists and could be made into a fine swordswoman with a little effort. Too bad she's going to be stuck running a recorder. Just another example of the ineffectual leadership typical of these religion besotted Maesters.

Paine ... . She has made no reference to what passed between us the other day. Silence from a woman is restful if unexpected. I am careful to treat her the same as I ever did and show no favoritism, even if I felt any – which I do not. I wonder what she felt when her hand tightened on the device which serves me as a left hand. Was she repelled by the sensation of metal beneath the leather? She gave no sign of that. Naturally, I could not feel her touch. Stop! Why am I concerned about this?

I have the distinct feeling this entire venture is going to be a disaster in every way. There are no plans, no clear chain of command, no unmistakable orders. This whole thing is being invented on the fly.

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197S9.9.01

I am beginning to wish I had not started this journal or that I had not resolved to be open and honest whilst using it. I suppose it is always possible to stop these recordings or to erase all the entries. After all, nobody knows about it except me. I hope that is still true. It is appalling to think what the Al Bhed would do if he ever got hold of this gadget. The least I would expect of him is to print out my private musings and hand them out like so many broadsheets. Note to self – keep this thing close and hidden. I am still talking into this device so it looks as though I have automatically decided to continue with these confessions; I must explore my motives and see if they are valid – later.

I am finding it uncommonly difficult to describe what happened late yesterday. Once again Gippal and Baralai had gone off together to some place they have made their own retreat. Ixion knows there are enough crevices and splits in these rocks to afford a private closet for any couple hunting a place to take their pleasure of one another. Now that I am fairly confident they will eventually return and I won't have to start over with another raw team, I do not care what they do or where. Just so long as they clean themselves before rejoining the camp. Musk is not my favorite scent.

Paine and I made a small fire since the nights are getting cooler and sat by it to discuss tactics and other matters of military importance. She was sitting on the ground and I had found a suitably sized stone since it is difficult for me to haul myself to my feet and we were comfortably occupied. Somehow, her head was resting against my right leg and I was running my good hand through her hair. She leaned back and the firelight reflected in her eyes, making them golden red rather than the usual sepia. ... Without my volition, my hand slipped down to cup her breast and she placed her own hand over mine, pressing it close. I could feel her nipple hardening against my palm and a wave of desire swept through me almost robbing me of my breath. I was unable to move for a prolonged period; only the sound of the returning lovers broke the paralysis. We drew apart but not before we both knew what was likely to happen the next time we were alone together. Perhaps I should request another Recorder. It is not healthy for intimate relations to exist between fellow soldiers.

I know I will not put her away from me. Here, and nowhere else, I will confess I am lonely. I have been accustomed to certain pleasures and find it difficult to do without no matter how much I argue with myself and tell myself that is no longer a part of my life. She certainly seems amenable. I wonder how she will react when she sees what Sin did to my body? Perhaps I can find a very dark place and she will not have to see it all. No. I will not lie or conceal what is there. I have only my honor left and I must not compromise that last bastion. Maybe we will be shipped out before we are left alone again. It would not be appropriate to embrace in the presence of the other two. What will happen when we are all four living in one tent? Will the lovers still love? Will Paine still make herself available to me? I need to think. A brief wash down and then to work.

I wonder how she will react when we meet this morning? Come to that, I wonder how I will react. Huh!

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Finally, word has come down that we are to assemble at a point on the Road where a make-shift set of docks has been set up and board ships which will carry us to an undisclosed training camp. The first groups, which do not include us, will set out in five days and the last should be aboard their respective vessels in another three. We will probably be amongst the last since I cannot imagine a less promising group than a cripple, a woman, a Cyclops and a priest. Never mind, within eight days we will be free of this dismal stinking camp and on our way to becoming ... whatever we are destined to become. I intend to do some foraging during the turmoil of packing and see if I cannot pick up a few side-arms to better supply us four. I don't like to think of Paine without a dagger to defend her honor if necessary. Note to self: Make sure she is aware that death is preferable to dishonor and that she knows the fastest and least painful way to kill herself.

I should probably take the same precautions with Baralai. It would be a pity to see him made a battle boy for a horde of fiends. Although, he might enjoy it. No. I must not permit my animus for the Al Bhed to affect my attitude toward the little priestling. I'll find him a knife for his boot top and show him how to use it. I am the leader, after all.

So, now I have only to avoid being alone with Paine for another few days and we will be in a situation where nothing further can develop. That should not be difficult; there is much to do. I need to show them how to properly roll their bedding and secure it, how to pack items so they don't rattle and betray one's position, how to pitch a tent in a way that won't let it collapse at the first wind gust ... there is so much to teach them. I won't have time to indulge in assignations. Though, would it be better to assuage this appetite before we ship out or risk being diverted when I can least spare the thought. Damn! Retaining one's capacity in this area is a two-sided blessing. I can do without distraction now that orders are finally being issued.

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Another surprise. I called the team together to tell them about the latest announcement. No one seemed unduly alarmed at the prospect of beginning the real work of training. Not even Baralai. He and Paine kept exchanging tight little smiles when they thought my attention was elsewhere. I think I am becoming more paranoid as the days pass. I see plots and enemies all around me, most of them designed to humiliate me in some way. I must stop this line of thought. It leads to a loss of control and will make me unfit to lead even this bedraggled crew.

As I was saying, I told them about the orders to sail and suggested strongly that they see what they can pick up at the camp as the earlier groups ship out. I emphasized side arms but told them anything of use should be quietly collected and added to our store. They will report tomorrow morning to practice packing gear and the other mundane duties they must learn to perform. In the meantime, I shall go interview the commander of the base camp and try to find out our schedule and where we are bound for. I hope there is no sand. It plays havoc with my joints. The machina ones. Especially the knee and ankle.

Oh, the surprise. I almost forgot to mention it. After I had laid out the plans for the next day or so and dismissed them, Gippal – the Al Bhed – stayed behind. I was wary, of course. However it seems he had noticed my limp was worse than usual and wanted to offer his help. He claims to have some experience with the prostheses produced in the shops of his people and is sure he can adjust and thoroughly lubricate the leg I am using. He seems to mean it kindly and to have no ulterior motive. It's true, I am having more difficulty moving around the past day or so and will be badly handicapped in training if nothing is done. I had intended to bring it up to the commander, but I would rather not remind him of my inadequacies if it can be avoided. So, I told Gippal I would think about it and give him an answer later today. Now I must check the supplies which have been dropped off by one of the Maesters' servants.

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Amazing. I had not thought this clumsy lump of metal and ceramic could work so easily and well. I'm not sure what Gippal did since his hands are quick and I was lying down with the leg stretched out below my line of sight, but the damn' thing is better than it has ever been. When I expressed my thanks, he volunteered to do a check-up and lubrication whenever it became necessary and went into complicated explanations about the joys of working on a device of such sophistication and with so many advanced components. I think he is slight insane on the topic of machina. As I am unbalanced on certain topics, myself.

Another thing, while he was doing his job we talked about preparing for war. I mentioned that the next step in training would involve encounters with real fiends and the use of live ammunition. With that in mind, I expressed a certain reservation about Baralai's skill with firearms and, to my complete astonishment, Gippal blushed! You might have thought I had brought up the topic of public display of affection.

When I am wrong about something, I am always ready to admit it. The pretense of infallibility is the surest way to failure. So, I freely admit here I was mistaken when I assumed the two men spent their days in dalliance. Well, only in dalliance. Gippal confessed he had been taking the priestling down the road to the old M'hen Highway and, in a secluded cul-de-sac, teaching him how to shoot. That's one less thing I'll have to do. The Al Bhed is acting more like a soldier now. Maybe tinkering with my leg has given him a feeling of solidarity with the team. Who can tell how one of that race thinks? I have promised him he can have a go at the arm tomorrow. And the four of us will go together to the improvised firing range in the afternoon to see which of us is the best shot. It should be interesting. I am eager to see how Paine is with a gun.

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The commander was either unable or disinclined to give me any further information about when my team will embark and where we will be taken. Typical!

06/06/055181296


	4. Chapter 4

**The Confessional**

**Part Four:**

197S9.9.02

It has been exactly one week since I showed up here at this revolting place as I was ordered by my former commanders. I suppose I am now a fully acknowledged member of this irregular force. Since I have an orderly mind, I shall take this short time before the other three of my team stir to make a few notes to mark the passing of a distinct measurable period of time. Note to self: find a secure way to continue this journal once I am in the close quarters of a ship or tent.

This group of four has come together better than I had expected before yesterday and my talk with Gippal. It is true that Baralai is still as reticent as an old corpse but I expect his lover to assure him I will not bite him, so that should straighten itself out in short order. I have no desire to harm the pretty boy and am anticipating judging his fighting abilities when we go the the Highway and test our marksmanship this afternoon.

I confess to misjudging Gippal. He is less arrogant than I had thought and more confident in his own skills. There is no harm in a man being secure in his talents. I am that way inclined myself. The Al Bhed certainly proved his words in the work he did on my leg yesterday. He is to check out the arm this morning and that should make me fit for duty for quite a while. Also, I have decided his attachment to Baralai will make him fight harder in order to keep his leman safe and alive. I will therefore have only Paine to protect – if Gippal proves to be as good a marksman as he claims. We shall see. This afternoon.

Since Paine has so good an eye in swordplay, I do not doubt she can transfer to shooting with relative little difficulty. That woman is a problem. Not as a team member, but to me personally. I do not understand why I am unable to set the thought of her aside. Maybe once I have had her, I can forget her. That's the way it usually works. I was celibate for months before my injuries and now for months since. It has been more than a year since ... Absurd! There she goes, interrupting my thoughts again.

It has been a week since I became a part of this venture and I now have a team assembled which may be able to preserve itself at least through training. I wish I could still use my sword but no use regretting what is past. There is a future, however short, to be dealt with and there is where my attention must lie.

I cannot find a way to reverse the recording and erase parts of this journal. Gippal would probably know how but I can't ask him. Better just to keep it hidden. If I ever have to use it in court, I'll worry about it then and if it is used as evidence of malfeasance on the part of our leaders after my death – it won't matter to me.

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To continue – the only one of the team I have not established some sort of understanding with is Baralai. I need to remedy that before we ship out. However, it occurs to me a youngster of such tender ... one so physically appealing must have experienced certain ... may mistake my concern for his well-being for something else. There he lies, drooling on his pillow again. That combination of glowing skin and cottony hair is unique and beautiful. I get a sudden mental image of him thrashing his amber legs in the air and squealing his pleasure ... Why am I thinking that? His legs waving past my ears? I never used to have such pictures in my mind before I was broken. Did they rewire my brain as well as my body? This is not acceptable! I am not so much the slave of my impulses and I know perfectly well how to discipline my thoughts. ... The day will be a busy one. I must wash and prepare for my duties. I am glad the pool is cold.

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There is no doubt the Al Bhed is as proficient in working with machina as he claimed. He has cleaned and adjusted the arm as well as he did the leg. The hand closes with such precision now I think I could catch a webfly unharmed. And crush a stone. He peeled back the synthetic skin which covers the shoulder area as though it were the most natural thing in the world to have skin that comes off like a shirt. This was the first time I have exposed my body to another's eyes since I left the hospital. He seemed to take no notice of the condition of the flesh he probed. I am glad he treats my protheses and my injuries with such coolness. I feel I am little more than an adjunct to the machina in his opinion. This is as I would have it be.

Gippal carries a pouch of tools secreted somewhere in his clothing and seems to have everything he needs quickly to hand. He not only checked and lubricated the working parts of the arm, he carefully examined the places where the mechanical is connected to the living. I must have inadvertently flinched occasionally because I could hear him mutter a quick apology from time to time. He did not remark on the scarring which is so grotesque to my eyes. That is probably because he is oblivious to anything but the task at hand. I don't think Paine or Baralai would be so sanguine. ... Now I am as ready for the next stage of this misconceived project as I am likely to be and here – for the record – I formally commend Gippal the one-eyed Al Bhed for his excellent service on my behalf. Hmmm.

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It is late and the efforts of this long day are past. In fact, it will be tomorrow very soon. I shall try to summarize the events of the past hours as tersely as is consistent with clarity and completion.

I gave the others another lesson on packing and stowing equipment. They are becoming reasonably proficient at assembling supplies in a way which will permit them to carry the necessaries in an efficient manner. Paine is capable of carrying as much as any of us men. Her thin body conceals a surprising amount of muscle. This will be helpful since in addition to her normal load, she will have to carry the recording device and a supply of spheres.

Gippal led the way to the improvised firing range he had build in order to teach Baralai to shoot. It is cleverly located in a dead end canyon off the main Highway, concealed from observers by the overhanging cliffs. Well chosen. My admiration for his useful skills appreciates apace.

It turns out that Baralai can handle his weapon with far greater ease than I had thought likely. He must be a quick learner – or Gippal an extraordinary teacher – to have mastered so much so quickly. He will certainly do as a Warrior if he can keep his eyes off Gippal and on the enemy. He is still doing the admiring gaze thing no matter what the exercise. I really must do my duty as leader and talk to him about a number of things.

Gippal shoots uncommonly well. Far better than I. But then, I am a swordsman by training and choice, only lately come to this inferior weapon and its use. I shall put in some more time practicing in private. The Al Bhed has lived up to all his boasts so far. He is also becoming more tractable. I wonder if it is because of his relationship with the other? That may be taking the brittle edge off his behavior. If so, I shall do nothing to hinder it. I am beginning to understand this small team and will be able to train it more precisely when the time comes.

Paine is another new to the gun. She is doing well enough although not nearly so well as she did in the mock sword-play we engaged in. I have asked Gippal to give her some lessons. She is so much brighter and more talented than Baralai, a day or two should see her up to par.

All in all, I am not discontented with what I saw today at the range. For all our external problems, this team is almost certainly one of the best of the bedraggled lots assembled by the Maesters.

Just before we left for our excursion to the range, a message came that the nature of the training we are about to undergo is to select individuals qualified for what the Maesters are now calling The Crimson Squad, which is the pompous name they have selected for the cadre of officers who will eventually become the new leaders of the forlorn Crusaders. It is the usual dreck from the military brass – give a project a resounding name and the job is done. Feh!

As I said, it is late and there is much more on my mind. I think I shall omit it for it is of a personal nature and has no place in this record of historical events.

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I am wrong. This is not only an historical record; I have proved that with the whining self-pitying entries I have already made. In a sense, my willingness to put in those events which do not reflect well on me is a guarantee of my honesty throughout. Although no one who has ever known me would question my honour and honesty. I am noted (and sometimes mocked) for my refusal to lie.

I am trying to put off relating the events of the last of the day. I don't know why I am reluctant to do so, they do not shame anyone and they are not of the dishonorable sort. They were the natural culmination of what had preceded them and in no way reprehensible. In spite of the observable fact that nearly half of me is machina, I am human in the ways and parts that count. In spite of my trained control of my body and emotions, I do feel. In spite of the reputation I have garnered and cultivated for cynical indifference to the common needs of a man, I can lust.

I lay with Paine last night. After the trip to the Highway, we four returned here to the small camp I have established. When I had seen the others safely back, I retired to the pool I thought I alone knew to wash away the dust and sweat of the long hike. I was bathed and just stepping from the water when I saw a white shape moving among the bushes around the pool. Paine! As naked as I!

She came to me in the moonlight where there was no concealment and knelt before me. We did not speak. After a while, I lay down on the grass and took her in my arms, being so careful not to hurt her. When I entered her, it was as if I was warm for the first time since my encounter with the Sin spawn. I was completed again, once again a whole man.

Paine is cool to the touch, her skin like the inside of a shell – white with a blush of rose. She is smooth and firm; I can trace the exact line of her muscles and explore the subtlety of her bones. She has small breasts and a mouth filled with honey. She is perfection.

I had expected the act to relieve me of the desire, but it has made me hungrier for her than I was before. She arouses the very appetite she feeds. I saw no disgust in her face when she looked at my body, not even when she ran her fingers down the worst of the scarring. There was a tenderness in her touch which healed more than all the medical spells of the Mages. We lay quietly for a long time afterwards, in fact, I cannot remember either of us saying a single word. It was like a dream, a fantasy, a journey outside the body into the universal spirit.

I would think it had been a dream were it not for her scent lingering on my hand and body. I could not bear to wash it away.

Jun 6, 20055181296


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: To the reviewer who expressed pleasure in my making Nooj "a decent person, for once", trust me – this is not the first time I have shown him in a more pleasant light. LOL I even let him cry in Chiaroscuro and, in After, he had quite a good time indeed. I confess that I find it more interesting to write about the less acceptable sides of his personality. However, I am trying to keep things in check in this effort. Thank you for the review.

**The Confessional: Part Five**

197S9.9.03

Oddly enough, I did not sleep well last night. I had thought I would but the events at the pool kept playing again and again in my mind and I was wakeful. Pleasantly so, but I am tired this morning. And curious to see how Paine will react to me today and if the other two will notice anything different about us. They seemed to be asleep when we returned to the camp. I suppose we should have come back separately and not have embraced before we went to our beds. Since they appeared asleep, I didn't see anything wrong but now I wonder if they were only feigning and watched us as we returned. I had no difficulty in seeing they had been together that first time. Why should I think the Al Bhed is any less aware than am I? Well, it can't be changed now so we must wait and see how the dynamics play themselves out.

It is not yet dawn. I have time to finish this entry and to get ready for the day before they wake. Why did Paine come to me last night? Why did she offer herself unmistakably from almost the first time we met? I do not deceive myself I am so desirable no woman can resist me. That wasn't the case even before I met the Sin spawn which made me a cripple and a freak. There must be a reason she permitted me to possess her, a reason she caressed me so warmly. It may be she was as hungry as I; she could have been maneuvered into a state of celibacy and, noting Gippal and Baralai were involved with one another, have seen me as her only source of release. Or she may be one of those who naturally gravitates to the alpha dog in any pack in order to secure the protection she thinks she needs. Or maybe she has heard this is the way to advance in the military – crawl into the bed of successive officers - sleep your way to the top and all the perquisites attendant upon being the leader's whore. Why am I thinking this way? Why can't I accept we are two private people who have found something of value in one another? Why must I see no good anywhere and assume everyone has a vile motive for every action? ... Because it is more often true than not.

I will wait and see her reaction when she wakes. I have had enough experience to know when a woman has been made happy in my arms and when I have just been used for what I can offer as a bed mate. I will look into those red eyes and see why she arched herself against me and purred, why her nipples pressed like firm finger-tips against my chest. ... I am becoming aroused again. It is time to stop this and go wash. The sun will rise soon and I must be in control by then.

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That was surely one of the most difficult interviews I have ever conducted. In order to complete my effort to know personally all three of the recruits for whom I have been made responsible, I resolved to have a long talk with Baralai this morning. To that end, I told Gippal to take Paine off to the firing range he had set up and coach her in her use of her weapon. Baralai, of course, started to follow them when they left until I ordered him back. A pouting, sulky expression is not attractive on a woman; on a man, it is disgusting. So I slapped him and he started to cry.

In the name of Yu Yevon on a petard, I didn't hit him that hard. There was only a faint outline of my palm on his cheek and I hit him with my good hand. If it had been the machina one, he might have had reason to sob like an infant. His nose turns red when he cries. And he blubbers. When I threatened to do worse, he finally shut up and sat huddled at my feet like a whipped cur.

When I had yanked him upright, I began my lecture. Ixion alone knows how much penetrated that immature mind. He claims to be of age but I find it hard to believe. His every move and gesture gives the impression he should be back suckling at his mother's teat rather than getting ready to kill fiends and Sin spawn. I think the other three of us will be better off if we tell him to just stay in camp and keep things tidy for us. He can do little dances and sing for us while we rest from the day's fighting. Oh, he can shoot all right but will he when the target is alive and moving toward him? I find no taste for killing in the boy. And without that appetite, he won't last long on a battlefield. Crying! Huh!

It is a capital mistake to confuse the ability to do something with the willingness to do it. I learned that when I was as raw as this child. Let's see, he's failed at being a priest and is on the verge of failing to be a Warrior. What will he choose to fail at next? Always assuming he survives his first day of live arms training.

I gave him the dagger I had managed to acquire the last time I was at the main camp and explained its purpose. He seemed to think I expected him to immediately plunge it into his heart so I had to slowly and carefully walk him again through the ways to store a knife like that and when to use it and how. I hope he understood and won't miss the vital spot if the time comes he needs to make a quick exit. I've done my best by him. Most commanders would have thrown him out as soon as the first tear hit the cheek. Bah!

I have wasted my time in giving him a personal interview and I am no closer understanding him personally than I was before I met him. He will not talk to me. I cannot tell why he will not open up to me and let me see what he's made of. He seems comfortable enough with Paine whom he has known for even less time than he has known me. They seem to understand one another oddly well for relative strangers. They're always exchanging knowing glances – like a couple of girl friends. Note to self: ask Paine what they talk about at the next opportunity.

For the first time since I was injured, I find myself thinking about my less acceptable pastimes while I was in the Crusaders. I had to fight back the impulse to exercise some of the more elementary ones on that amber face with the tears and snot running down it. Control is everything; I must remember that.

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Gippal and Paine are taking their time getting back. It is not that I am worried at all. I know where Gippal's proclivities lie. It is just ... Hell! I do not like her being alone with him. He is entirely too dashing, too romantic, too appealing. He shoots too well and has too many skills for an honest man. ... This is not acceptable. I am a sensible man who is responsible for these three neophytes. I must keep my attention on the main objective. There Baralai goes, off to the tent, sniffling again. At least he has the knife properly lodged in his boot top. Unless he has stuck it in his calf, which is not all that unlikely.

I am going to sharpen this dagger I found for Paine. She may not know how to do it and a sharp blade is less painful than a dull one. It is of some comfort to recollect Gippal is short. Not really any taller than Paine herself.

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Everything is finally getting straightened out again. It has been a hectic afternoon with news from the Maesters, another awkward interview and more misunderstandings all around.

To begin with, the postings for who sails when have been put up. As I had expected we will be amongst the last to leave this place, embarking on the ninth day of the month. That's six days from now, only a little over half a week. This means we will have time to continue practicing our marksmanship and exercising to improve our stamina. With the adjustments to the leg, I shall try walking further without my cane and work on erasing the limp. Maybe Gippal ...

That brings me to the next point. Gippal. He was in a towering rage after he talked to his leman. At one point I thought he was going to try to hit me. I could see his fists balled and the fire in his eye. Naturally, it was beneath my dignity to either explain what happened between Baralai and me or to take note of Gippal's near insubordination. I just stood and observed, not bothering to listen to the intemperate words emerging from his mouth. It did not take long for him to realize the foolishness of what he was doing. I could watch the knowledge creep across his face. He knows I am his ticket to success in the military. If he is ever to lead a force to take revenge for the destruction of his people and his home, it must be through my intervention. He recognizes that; it will keep him on the leash.

And there is something else. The Al Bhed is besotted with the desire to further explore what was done to me. To investigate more deeply the way in which the machina have been incorporated into my flesh. He looks at the areas where the arm and the leg join the remaining parts of me in much the same manner I look at Paine's breasts behind her leather harness. So the man is twice bound to my service and will obey me until he gets his desires. Now I know how far I can push him.

Baralai continues to avoid me and to cradle his cheek whenever he thinks someone is looking. He'll get over it when he's dodging fiends. Paine is in high spirits, boasting about her improved shooting. At first she looked concerned about the undercurrents swirling among us but she seems untroubled now. We have exchanged glances and silently agreed to meet at the same place tonight. Satisfactory.

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It is not easy to remember that only a day ago I was being tormented by visions of the legs of Baralai bouncing in the air. Now, it is the graceful limbs of Paine which fill my mind and memory. This night we talked after our more urgent needs had been met. She is a most complete woman.

She is like a dryad, a water spirit by the pool. The moisture beading on her skin bejewels her body as though she has been strewn with crystals and gems. Her short hair defines her head, that elegant skull with the delicate bones. I can look at her forever in the moonlight. Strangely, she does not turn her eyes from my misshaped body but returns my gaze with honesty and acceptance. I think it is her attitude which makes me able to perform as well as I do. Without such approbation I fear I would be impotent or at least inadequate. Ah, I am due some good fortune after the events of the last half year. Still, it is a small miracle that Paine came into this army and was assigned to this team at exactly this time.

She thinks of Baralai as a brother, one a little helpless in the big world, one who shares many of her interests. She feels protective toward him and thinks he will not do well in the coming trials. Gippal makes her laugh. He plays the fool for her and has shown her how to hold her gun more securely and shoot more accurately. He's like a big brother – she says. There is no reason for me to feel jealous. She teases and suggests I study with Gippal. My lack of skill did not escape her scarlet gaze.

She is inventive in the ways of love. Her hands and mouth are clever, more adroit than those of any woman I have known before. Nothing that creates passion is alien to her – nor now, to me. She is teaching me things I never thought of, not with all my years of experience with women of all races and types. She is as agile and flexible as a snake, wrapping herself around me, cool and warm at once. I am finding her to be addictive. And, I must add, there are things I can teach her. Things that seem to please her. We are well matched in our appetites and skills.

Now, I am worrying about how we will manage in the close quarters of a ship and a tent. I feel sure we can locate hidden places in the ship for trysts but they won't be these long, leisured explorations of one another which are so fulfilling now. And those small tents. If we are sent to a place of forests and such, we may be able to find safe havens of privacy away from the sight of the other recruits. No sense in planning until I know what the conditions will be. It is a capital error to theorize without information. I know that. What I do not know is if Gippal and Baralai have noticed our relationship. The Al Bhed would have to be much stupider than I think he is not to have seen what is happening. The Yevonite is probably too self absorbed to notice if we pleasured one another in his own sleeping bag.

Life is becoming more complicated. I am faced with the necessity of arranging both my personal privacy to continue this journal and a larger privacy in order to join with Paine. I can do it. I have come this far from the half-man the Sin spawn left on that distant battlefield. I can go the rest of the way. Yet I must never forget I am marked for death, even now. With Paine, I can live as intensely as possible in these last days or weeks before I find my place to die. And she will help me keep my demons at bay.

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197S9.9.04

I have swallowed my pride and asked Gippal for a morning's coaching in the art of marksmanship.

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Jun 8, 20055181297


	6. Chapter 6

**The Confessional**

Part Six: 

107S9.9.05

I am not sure why I started this journal. I think it was because I was bored and later justified my action by saying to myself I was keeping it to record evidence of incompetence by those governing this endeavor. Now, upon reviewing my entries, it would seem I have let it slip into less of a formal record than a personal diary. This was not my intention. I have no reason to record my own affairs unless they are concerned with the ineptitude of those Maesters who are so mangling this force. All the self pity and worse should be expunged, especially those parts where I talk about my relationships with the others in the squad. I wish I had paid more attention to the use of mechanical devices when I had the chance. I cannot work out how to erase selected portions of this collection without erasing it all. None of the controls seems to be marked with a symbol relating to selective excision. I'm sure Gippal could figure it out but I do not trust him not to listen and talk about some of the information I have recorded for my ears alone. Until I can decide how to handle this appropriately, I will simply have to keep this toy safe from the notice of the others and never far from my person. Maybe I can have Gippal construct a locked container for it inside the leg. There should be plenty of room and the Al Bhed doesn't have to know what I want to keep there. Hah!

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Something is changing. Since my liaisons with Paine and the satisfying of my most urgent physical needs, my mind has turned – without my will or consent – to memories of my time in the Crusaders. Those were days of phantasms, darkness and confusion. I can recall certain events which seem almost alien now, things I did without thought, like an automaton. Remembering them is a waking nightmare and yet the memories are strangely appealing. I shall not set them down here because I am not sure of their validity and they limn a portrait of me which is far from acceptable in any way. Was the figure doing those things me or is it some artifact of my mind conjured up by the delirium and dreams in the hospital when I thought I was dying and welcomed the gift? Without testimony of some who knew me in those days, I cannot be sure of the truth so better it remain unsaid. It is always harder to retract a lie than to not tell a questionable story in the first place. Silence. But I still remember.

Note to self: keep tight rein on temper. No more slapping Baralai, no matter how provoked. It might lead to something worse.

The first contingents move out tomorrow. I must not neglect to scan their deserted camps for useful items they may have forgotten or dropped. This team needs all the armaments it can get.

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Another session of working on marksmanship is scheduled for the morning. I shall check out the main camp in the afternoon. I am improving. My sword is another thing I must stop thinking about. There are more forbidden thoughts than acceptable ones in my catalogue now. It is a good thing I am well schooled in mental discipline.

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I have been watching the other three as they relax in the heat of the afternoon. They remind me of a litter of coeurl kits, tumbling over and wrestling with one another. They suggested, hesitantly, that I join them but a moment's reflection made all of us realize how absurd that idea was. I am the largest of us all and, with my 'special' advantages, could crush any of them with a touch. It is another reminder of my basic difference. As if I needed one. I am set apart by more than the physical anomalies. I carry with me the aura of death, the inescapable cloud of nothingness. They have not articulated it yet but I have no doubt all three are well aware I am not to survive, that I do not hunt survival. We shall see how they deal with that knowledge when it becomes too evident to ignore.

Now, they are tired and the Al Bhed is teaching them his barbaric language. I think I shall go down to the pool and wash, then take a nap.

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197S9.9.06

The first group of teams has been marched in their irregular and straggling lines down to the make-shift docks and loaded onto the ships waiting there. That has emptied a little less than half the camp. Another contingent will go tomorrow and then it is our turn. I shall not drill the squad tomorrow; they can set their own pace in order to get their affairs in order for embarking. I still do not know where they are sending us for the serious training and testing. Apparently the surprise is part of the work. Typical Maester thinking. There is something about pervasive religiosity which rots a military mind. I think that is what is wrong with the priestling. He has spent too much time on his knees and not enough on top.

When I look at the other teams, I am less bothered by ours. We may be riddled with handicaps but we have a more professional bearing when we march (even with my limp) and we hold our arms with some indication we know what they are for. Unlike all too many of those I watched proceeding to the boats earlier. They looked like farm-boys on their way to the fields, laughing and punching one another. The fiends will dine well where they are stationed. Were I a gambler, I would be inclined to wager each of us – including Paine – will be given command of a unit when all this is shaken out. If we can't beat out the ones I saw this morning, we do not deserve to survive.

Paine joined me in our secluded place yesterday afternoon as I had more than half-expected her to. We took our pleasure in the light of the sun for the first time and, again, she showed no reluctance to look at or touch the scarred parts of my body. She likes the feel of the machina hand, I think, better than my real one. It makes her gasp and moan when I stroke her with the gloved mechanism. Since I have no sense of touch in that limb, I am very careful not to be too rough but she likes a little roughness, so it is a constant balancing act – which adds to the enjoyment for us both. Danger has always heightened passion for me and she has told me it is so with her. We are very well matched. We embraced, dozed, bathed, lay together again and finally fell asleep on the mossy grass by the pool, not waking until the night was well advanced and the chill made covers desirable if not mandatory. When we returned to the camp, the other two were sharing a single sleeping bag so I suppose we can now consider all secrets revealed. Just as well, I am not sure it would have been possible to dissemble on the ship anyway. We are all adults and there is no germane reason to pretend we are not engaged in physical unions so long as there is no jealousy or competition. This is what I tell myself. But I know in my obsession with the red-eyed woman, I have been careless and indiscreet. I wonder if I would have responded in this way to any woman who crossed my path after so long – that is any one who did not fight me off. I prefer to think I would be as discriminating as I have always been but it is hard to know when so many things have changed.

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Gippal has just presented me with one of the fruits of his foraging in the abandoned parts of the main camp. He found some tubes of a water-resistant lubricant which he suggests I use for the machina while we are in an area where water is available for washing and save the supply I have been using for areas where water is not a factor. This seems an excellent idea to me. He has also volunteered to do the final adjusting and greasing of both limbs this afternoon in order to have everything ready for our departure on the eighth day of this month. In his opinion, the material he found will be better to protect my prostheses during a sea voyage. Salt spray might well be a problem.

He is a strange one. He has not shown by so much as the lift of an eyebrow that he is aware Paine and I are sleeping together. I think he simply does not give a damn so long as he and Baralai are undisturbed in their bliss. Ixion knows I do not care what he does in his off time if it doesn't affect unit cohesion.

So far the scavenging has been going well. I have found a number of small knives and daggers left lying about, enough to supply the four of us with all we need and to have some extras in reserve. Pistols are another matter. Not too many of them forgotten. That is understandable; it takes more skill to use a blade than a firearm. I remember I used to be able to take a poniard with a fine sharp point and ... No! I will not think about that! We have found enough pistols to supply each of us with one and I have two more squirreled away in case of need. Doubtless, we will find more tomorrow after the next crew leaves.

I will not think about those things. I will not. They are probably not true – just fever dreams from my journey to the edge of death. I will not think about them.

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197S9.9.07

The second set of would-be warriors marched off to their ships this morning. Again I watched and wondered at how the Maesters could ever think this motley accumulation of has-beens and want-to-bes could ever be turned into real soldiers. They are, by and large, the hapless results of inferior blood-lines. They can't keep cadence, they can't shoulder their weapons, they are not clean. If I met them on a battlefield, I would think them the enemy and slaughter them to a man.

Speaking of marching, I have been trying to dispense with the cane and to overcome the limp. My success is very limited. It is too tiring to try to walk far without the help of that damned stick and the effort to smooth my gait requires so much concentration I am unable to do much of anything else. It seems I must wait for more healing or better prostheses before I can expect improvement. Hah! By the time either of those desiradatum comes to pass, I will be dead. I hope and expect.

Gippal has performed the promised servicing of my arm and leg. The new lubricating substance seems to be thicker than the old and is making the cables run with less friction. We talked while he worked since he was in an expansive mood. He still has not told me how he lost his eye even though he is eager for any scrap of information I am willing to give him about how I came by the machina parts of my body. It appears to confuse him that I, not a member of his race, should have been offered these innovative devices before they have become readily available. He has obviously never heard of me and my earlier career. Just as well, I have little suitable to share about those days even if I were inclined to do so. Instead, I ferreted out his war stories. He has seen his share of fighting in the irregular forces of the Al Bhed. Has been a leader of men too. He will make a useful addition to the number who qualify to take command of a group of former Crusaders. Had he not been Al Bhed born, he would have made an excellent member of the original body. I would have welcomed him into the officers' corps.

While Gippal and I have been occupied, Paine and Baralai have gone over to the main camp, now nearly emptied, to see what they can find. I am eager for them to return, hoping they will bring more pistols and some ammunition. Not being a gunner, I had neglected to remember that these inefficient projectile weapons need projectiles to be usable.

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Baralai, of all people, discovered the most interesting artifact yet left in the debris of the main camp. He was poking around on the lowest level, where all the caves are, beneath the level of the road, and found a wooden box holding two hand guns. He hid it under that ridiculous green robe he swishes around in and brought it back here. I have handed it over to our resident expert to examine. I can think of only one purpose for a matched pair of long-barreled pistols, lying on form-fitting velvet inside a polished box with a lockable catch. But it is possible I am mistaken.

Gippal has promised to check the guns out carefully and report to me as soon as he has more information. Who would have thought the priestling would have had the balls to go down to that area and search? There may be more in him than I thought. He has stopping avoiding my glance and sulking when he is around me. I think the slap did him good; it got his attention anyway.

Paine managed to find a fairly good stock of ammunition. I had told her that was what she was to look for. She follows orders well, a good sign. She brought us two hefty knapsacks full of projectiles – I do not know their proper names – for both rifles and side arms. Some appear to be producers of explosions, some of piercing ability. Here again Gippal must sort them out. We are finally becoming a team of specialists. I have no doubt we will be the most effective of the products of this absurd game the Maesters are playing.

With the squad together again and with the image of the second mob of competitors fresh in my mind, I have looked closely at the three I command. They have shaped up better than might have been expected. Baralai is holding himself less tentatively. He is also managing to stand a little apart from Gippal for a change. I wonder if the Al Bhed had been telling him not to cleave so closely. I think I will not interfere in that interaction until it becomes necessary. Gippal himself is a compact man with the energy of youth and the courage of one who has never been badly hurt. I wish I knew how he lost the eye but I do not think it would be wise or productive to pry into that just now. I shall use him on the other point to balance me and protect, to some degree, the other two who are less experienced and able. Paine remains the enigma. In her silence and behind her shuttered eyes, she is inscrutable. I know her strength and indifference to pain. Both will serve her well when the fiends are gathering for the attack. I must warn her to keep her distance from me. If I find my death place, I do not want her to join me in Nothingness. ... And if I were apart from myself observing me with a commander's care? I don't know. I am still a cripple, still limping and halting and still no expert with a gun. I will do what I can. At least I am not a coward and experience counts for something. I know my way around a battlefield.

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It is as I thought. The matched pistols are intended for dueling. Gippal confirmed that by investigation and comparison to other such sets he has seen. But there is something odd about this pair. One of them is a Judas pistol. It is designed so that the barrel is blocked and the working mechanism is such that when the gun is used as designed – that is, held at arm's length and at eye level - the ball is projected through the rear of the pistol and will most likely enter the eye socket of the shooter, killing him. It is a masterpiece of treachery, made to turn a duel into a murder. I had heard of such things but never thought to see one. The box was found near the depths of the campsite of the Maesters and is typical of their way of thinking. It is no surprise to anyone who has kept an eye on these fanatics that honor is not a part of their thought processes. I must give this considerably more attention. I do not intend to tell any of the so-called leaders of this absurd project we found their toys. I wonder if they have missed them and what they were doing out where Baralai found them. He did not report the presence of any of the Ruling Class. Hmmmm.

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Jun 13, 20055181298


	7. Chapter 7

The Confessional

**Part Seven:**

197S9.9.07

This is our last night in this camp. Mid-morning tomorrow ... Ah, I see the date stamp is about to change...

197S9.9.08

Mid-morning today, we will make our way down the road to the temporary dock and on to the boat which will carry us to the undisclosed location of our actual training. I would be happier if I knew where we were going and what to expect to find – what conditions, I mean. I know there will be enemies, stress and little sleep. I have been on training missions before.

I have prepared my team as best I can. We have ample arms – except we have no swords. Come to think of it, I have seen none since I came here. We have sufficient ammunition and enough knives and daggers to permit us to defend ourselves at close quarters and to prepare what food animals we may find in the field. I have done all I can to this point.

I continue to be troubled by the discovery of the Judas gun. I had not expected treachery to that degree, not even from the Maesters. If they are comfortable in using such ploys on one another, what must they have in store for us, their underlings? I can only be watchful and suspicious of their every move. No sense exhausting my mind with unfocused worry.

Yesterday, as it is now, was mostly a day for resting. A little scavenging, Gippal's final tweaking of these damnable machina limbs, a last visit by the four of us to the firing range... My aim has greatly improved, another reason to be glad of Gippal. This journal is beginning to sound like a letter of commendation for the Al Bhed. Ah well, I have never been one to withhold credit form those it was due and he has proved himself to be uncommonly useful.

Along that line, I must say that Baralai has begun what may be a turn around in the past day. Finding that box appears to have bolstered his self-esteem and, I have to admit, he shoots better than I - even with my increased skill. Note to self – do not think about swords. You can no longer use one.

No, Baralai is less obviously dependent on Gippal now. I am eager to see how he responds to the first fiend who attacks him. Will he stand his ground and fire or will he turn tail and flee? That will be the proof of his manhood. I have hopes.

Then there is Paine. Last night we carried a sleeping bag with us to the pool so that the late night chill would not force us back to the camp. I took care to impress the memory of the woman in the moonlight on my mind. I do not want to forget – ever.

I shall indulge myself and play back the memory, the image, to fix it more firmly in my mind. In the light of the two moons, both at their full, she is a thing of mysterious shadows and shapes. Without my spectacles, my vision is somewhat blurred and she becomes an other-worldly creature both flesh and mist together and apart. When she arches her back at the moment of her climax and contorts her face with pleasure, she is a goddess, the deity of lust fulfilled and I am drawn with her into a universe of spinning sensation and delirium. A woman like her is new to my experience or perhaps my emotions are so suffused with gratitude that she did not turn from my ruined body that I am unable to judge her in any unbiased manner. Still, she is a wonder in the moonlight and I shall not forget her when I am taking my first step into Nothingness.

I am filled with the feeling of endings, as though my consciousness is aware of doing things for the last time. Never again will I lie with Paine on the moss by this pool. Never again will I be free to explore her grace and sleekness with no one watching us. Never again will the ice of my agony be melted by the heat of her embrace. Never again will I taste myself on her tongue and smile with the awareness of it. I am drowned in melancholy, in the silent saying of farewells.

Yet I am paralyzed by my vision of her. She lies sprawled, her legs covered by the bag, her face hidden by her arm, sleeping as I make these notes. Her short hair is glittering silver in the moons' glow, forming a nimbus about her head in my hazy vision. Why is her hair so short? She laughs because mine is long and she seems to believe my lack of body hair is due to the indignities visited upon me in the hospital. I have never corrected that conviction of hers. There has not been enough time for us to explain ourselves one to the other. There have been only a handful of nights and those have been consumed by other things. ... Will there be another chance to learn one another? Ah ... I am tired and shall soon join Paine in her sleep. Days spent in such unstructured activities are more exhausting than ones involving more strenuous and orderly exercises.

She is stirring; so – another bout before we sleep. There is likely to be no privacy on the boat so we must take our pleasure here – enough to last us until other arrangements, if any, can be made. First, togetherness then dreams – good ones, I hope.

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We are ready and waiting for the order to move down the Mushroom Rock Road to the docks. The Maesters have supplied us with tents, knapsacks and other impedimenta we shall need in order to participate in a live ammunition training exercise. I confess I am surprised they have done this much. We have even been issued fresh sleeping bags, one each. Our team could have done with only two, as I suspect is true of most groups. We who inhabit Spira are a lusty people; we have to be in order to keep the population at anything like replacement level with the constant depredations of Sin and its spawn. The one thing they have not given us is uniforms. I would have thought that to have been at the top of their priorities since they are so concerned with appearances and there is no doubt an army looks more imposing if it is clad in matching kit. But no, here we are – Baralai in his slightly the worse for wear green robes with the layers of under garments which are likely to be a nuisance when he is actually out in the field trying to stay alive. He has picked up a heavy pointed staff from somewhere and insists he is more comfortable defending himself with that rather than a gun. Gippal has persuaded him to keep both weapons near at hand. Who would have thought the boy to be a hand-to-hand fighter? There may be more to him than immediately meets the eye. I shall watch.

Gippal is accoutered in typical Al Bhed fashion, loose trousers and shirt. His clothes make it easy for him to secrete various tools and side arms around himself. I have no idea how many weapons he is carrying. Or if he has a spare eye-patch. Note to self: do not attempt humor. It never works. If we are sent to a hot climate for this training, his voluminous garments will be perfect. All his race dress for the desert, of course.

Paine is still in her straps and leathers. She has remarkable skill in getting in and out of them quickly. I have never managed to decide how she does it. For her sake, I hope we are placed in a fairly temperate climate. I do not think she will be comfortable in any other. She has devised a way of carrying her weapon and her recorder so that both are readily available and Gippal tells me she is quite a good shot – something I observed myself yesterday afternoon. I wish she had lens to protect those red eyes from the glare off the water.

I remain as I always have, in the remnants of my Crusader uniform. The crimson leotard which is the easiest to tuck into the sheath which holds my left leg, continues to serve me adequately. I have managed a loose sleeve for the left arm to at least partially disguise the machina there. Since I am condemned to be a shooter, I have the padded fur to absorb the recoil from the heavy gun. Once I was indifferent to how I looked. Now I find I can get along better in the world if I can blend into the crowds as much as possible. I try to avoid being singled out as 'Nooj the Undying', the pride of the Crusaders. Hmph! It is not easy to handle both this awkward weapon and the cane. I would like to have one hand free just in case I need it. I suppose I can always drop the cane and ... and fall over like a rootless tree? It will eventually be necessary to work something out. Let me check ... yes, I have two spare pairs of spectacles in a safe place. I would truly be helpless on the field with two limbs missing and blurred vision. ... This entire project is ludicrous.

When will the orders come? This is typical military behavior – rush to formation and wait and wait and wait. Gippal is squatting against a rock, Baralai beside him. Paine is leaning on Baralai's staff. Only I maintain proper military posture.

I can see dust up the road, indicating some group or groups coming this way. Maybe things are finally starting to happen. I must rouse the other three and make sure they are a credit to me when the Maesters come by.

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Finally, we are on the boat. We were the next to last group to board. This vessel is smaller than I had expected. There are six teams of four each and we fill it more tightly than is absolutely comfortable. It is impossible to get away from strangers and still stay below deck. I am acutely aware the majority of our shipmates have not yet learned the virtue of regular bathing and, not putting too fine a point upon things, they stink. Was it by chance I got the only three recruits at that camp who understand how to wash or was it the example I set each day which has made this team the only one in which the skin color of each member can be immediately discerned? I remember back in my earliest Crusader days, I was called 'The Cat' because I could not bear to be dirty. Ah, that was before I earned other names, ones less playful.

Enough. I am brooding and need to be thinking. I have had our possessions stowed away properly and secured against both pilferage and heavy seas. Baralai, of all people, came over to me a while ago and whispered he has heard from some of the others that not all the boats are going to the same destination. That is certainly peculiar. Both the information and the fact the priestling brought it to me and not to his paramour. Maybe he is finally accepting the truth that I am his leader, his commander. That will be to the good. It will make things easier.

Paine has already had to demonstrate to one of the other teams she is not available for the taking. I think the man will recover in a day or so. If not, his squad will be a man short and deserve it. She did not even require a knife to make her point. There are two other women on this boat and they seem more amenable to the gropings and suggestions of the reeking males who line up at the doors of their quarters. When Paine looks in that direction, she sneers and her eyes flash a more fierce red, like warning lights. And I smile.

I have asked Gippal to take responsibility for our more valuable belongings such as the case with the pistols and the supply of lubricant for my limbs. He has so many places to secrete items about his person, he is the obvious one to do so. We are still at the dock and still have time to make sure every thing is as it should be. Since all the rooms were claimed, mostly by the whores and their customers, by the time we boarded, I have found a space behind some crates of cargo where we can be separated from the rabble and lay our sleeping bags down on relatively clean surfaces. It will suffice, I believe. ... Ah, from the shouts above deck, we seem to be casting off. I wonder how long we will be at sea and where we will land. All this secrecy seems exaggerated to me. I cannot see the purpose although I am beginning to realize what the Maesters' overall plan must be. I suspected it almost from the start and now it is taking shape more clearly each day.

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A strange thing has come to my attention. The man Paine injured was making a great deal of noise, disturbing the entire crew. Baralai walked over to him and waved his hands about while muttering something under his breath and the damaged man became quiet. After a moment, he grabbed Baralai's robes and kissed them. I had meant to check out any other talents the boy might have and, stupidly, did not do so. So he is a healer, a white Mage. That's interesting and may be handy. Make a mental note. ... It is getting stuffy and fetid down here. I think I will go up on deck for a while.

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This is an extremely unpleasant state of affairs. It never occurred to me I might not be a good sailor. I am on the open deck and the fresh air should be helping. I must go find a place I can sit down and be as still as possible. I hate this.

Jun 17, 20055181297


	8. Chapter 8

**The Confessiona**l 

Part Eight: 

197S9.9.10

Finally, we are on land again. It is an odd feeling to have my prosthetic leg the more stable of the two. My right leg is still trying to compensate for the roll and pitch of the deck. These days just past are amongst the most hellish I have ever endured and that includes the sessions with the vivisectionists. Why do men become sailors? They cannot possibly enjoy the constant movement of what should be steady ground. It has to be a sort of elaborate masochistic ritual designed to gain points in some celestial game. Feh! Rather than sail to another venue, I will make my grave on this barren shore.

I think it was two or maybe three days ago we boarded that stinking vessel and placed our fates in the unworthy hands of the Maesters and their confederates. It seems like a lifetime and I am no longer sure I trust the date stamp. I have spent my life at warfare and have done things which would give most men horrors for the rest of their lives. However, my stomach has stayed steady and my mind clear throughout my career. Until I boarded that ship. In the interests of honesty and completeness and because this journal has become – faut de mieux – my confessional, I must admit I have been hopelessly, violently ill since the beginning of this voyage. I have never sailed before, save for brief excursions near the shore line, and did not expect to be so affected by the movement of the open sea. I still cannot bear the thought or smell of food and have eaten nothing since this began. Au contraire! I would have permitted myself to die had it not been such a death would yield no honor and is thus beneath me.

I think I must have been delirious much of the time because I have little memory of anything except the hard deck against my back and fleeting images of the other three hovering over me when I dared to peek through my slitted lids. It seemed marginally better with my eyes closed. The others must have shielded me from the gaze of the ruffians who make up the other teams because I have heard no mockery such as I would have expected had they seen me helpless and retching. I have a faint recollection of a green robe near me and a sound of muffled chanting. Then sleep. That might have been Baralai and his magic. I must remember to ask if he attempted to help me. I will do so when the vertigo passes and I can walk straight again. Damn this wobbly leg. It's not enough I have to have a permanent limp – now I have to teeter on the other leg? If I believed in religion I would think I had committed a terrible sin to be so tormented.

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For the first time in my professional life, I am grateful for the military habit of procrastination. If we had been immediately marched off this beach, I would have been left behind. The traditional hurry/wait is giving me time to recover and whip myself into proper form. I think I must have twisted my left thigh sometime during my sickness. I am having considerable pain in the area where the prothesis is attached. Damn all this mess!

I asked Paine if Baralai used his healing magic on me – she being the least embarrassing to query. She confirmed my suspicions and told me that after casting the spell, the boy continued to keep watch and renew it when necessary as I slept for nearly twenty hours. That spared me the nausea and dehydration which would have otherwise been inevitable. Now that I know, I must find an opportunity to express my gratitude. I have nothing but contempt for a commander who will not properly appreciate extraordinary services done by his troops. I have always been respected by my men because I respect them.

Normally, I would tell Baralai of my gratitude for his help in private, but given the shaky self-esteem of the lad, I shall consider commending him before the others. It will help bind us together as a unit to see the leader willing to openly state the value of the lowliest member. Yes, I think that is the way to go. With my experience and reputation, I need not shore up my pride by hiding a passing weakness from the others. As if this one could be hidden after the other three have watched me puke up my guts.

Sitting here, recovering my strength and balance, I can see the terrain away from this shore. It looks dry and barren all the way to the horizon. There are no real trees, just clumps of small dusty shrubs. I don't know whether to call it desert or wilderness. It is an ugly land. The landscape appears to grow flatter and less varied as it fades into the distance. I have never seen this place before; it is not one of the sections of the planet where I have fought. After a little while, I shall assemble the team and question them about their own observations. That will be an excellent time to thank Baralai for his good offices. Now, I shall sleep a little more. I am still weaker than I like.

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We are now officially Squadron Number Five. Shortly after I woke and before I could convene the others, a runner from headquarters came by with a sealed envelope telling me our designation. There was a notice that further instructions and orders would be forthcoming soon. Try as I may, I cannot see the reason to waste the time and breath of a runner to hand out numbers when the same runner could have waited for an hour or so and carried a message which had some meaning in a real world. Or the leaders could have given so simple a message via the communicators. We each have one now; they were issued just before we sailed. These Maesters have no military minds at all. They are playing at being commanders of an army, little boys in a sand-box with toy soldiers. And they will kill us for their sport! I did not survive all the perils I have faced to perish ignobly for the entertainment of priests. These men are vile upwellings from the primeval ooze. I shall take particular pleasure in killing any who come to my hand. Especially if what I suspect of them is true.

It turns out that Gippal can cook. What odd talents turn up in random selections of human beings. While I was resting, he went out into the surrounding area and managed to catch a fellant – one of the more edible rodents on Spira. A big one too, ample to feed the four of us. Baralai gathered driftwood and cast a fire to roast the flesh and we dined well. It even tasted good to me. If my appetite is returning, I must be getting over the sickness of the sea. Paine had found some sea-weed which she wrapped around the meat and which supplied some of the other nutrients we need at this time. I feel as though I am being supported by the others and it should be the other way about. Time for me to stir and take up my duties. Oh, I praised the others highly for preparing the meal. ... I am spending too much time building up their egos. Tomorrow I must start tearing them down again so that they will be able to learn how to survive real struggles, with real weapons.

When we finished eating, I called Squadron Five together to learn what they have discovered since we disembarked – and for other reasons. After addressing them at length about the necessity to be mutually supportive in strange territory and to proceed with due caution, always protecting the weakest of the team and avoiding careless injury whenever possible, I turned my attention to my recent indisposition and singled out Baralai for his meritorious service not only to me but, through me, to the group. He blushed more ruddily than I would have thought possible for one of his skin color but seemed pleased to have his talents publicly acknowledged. So that's over and done with, thank Ixion.

The reports from the others were not helpful until Gippal spoke up. He swears we are on Bikanel, the place the Al Bhed had made their Home until it was destroyed not many years ago. It was the destruction of Home which drove Gippal into this adventure or so he insists. He says he is entirely certain of the location, claiming all of his blood have a sort of homing instinct which lets them know when they are near their ancestral lands. I'm not sure I can believe that completely but since I have no reason to dispute his identification of our position, I will accept it for the time being or until something occurs to make me think otherwise. It doesn't matter in the long run where we are, just how we are to maneuver in this landscape which is alien to me.

According to Gippal, once past the littoral, we will encounter a land of sand and rocks pock-marked with caves and with scant resources or refuges. There are some springs deep in the recesses of the stony pits but these are mostly guarded by fiends who have made them their gathering places. We will have to fight for water and food against an astonishing variety of monstrous creatures. And against our fellow candidates for positions in the Crimson Squad. (I can hardly bring myself to speak that ridiculous name. The morale of this so-called elite squad is unlikely in the extreme to survive being called that. Crimson? For blood, for courage, for a fashion statement? Absurd!)

So now we wait for the final orders, the sun is dropping and I doubt we will be moving from this location before the morrow. I have directed the others to go ahead and pitch our tent and anchor it as well as possible in the loose sand here. Baralai has wandered away toward the edges of the beach and is fussing around some of the scrubby plants scattered about. I wonder what he is up to.

Gippal has kept his promise and replaced the thick, sticky water-proof lubricant in my limbs with the thinner substance I had been using before. The joints are moving more easily without the grains of sand which had adhered to the pulleys, as he predicted. I cannot understand what he does when he makes the adjustments and so forth. There is always a double handful of bits left over – springs, screws, little rods and other oddities. Why were they there in the first place if the protheses can operate better without them? I have to admit my leg feels less heavy with some of those parts removed. But can I be sure the Al Bhed is not doing away with necessary components? It would be inconvenient were the leg to collapse suddenly. I suppose I should ask him but I do not like to imply he is less than competent at his job since he is so eager to be of help. It would be nice if I had more skill in dealing with individuals as persons instead of as cogs in the machinery of war. I hope Gippal is as able at his task as I am at mine. I know instinctively how to distribute troops on the battlefield whether the number be four or four hundred. Maybe he knows which parts are needed in a machina arm or leg as well. In any event, the left hand is so precise now that I can pick up the fine sand between two fingers. It would be better than the original flesh one if I only had feeling in it. Stop! I must be content with what I have now and not long after what was and will never be again.

I was overly sensitive as Gippal worked today. The bruising of my thigh made the area of attachment very painful and it was difficult not to jerk away from even the most delicate touch there. I fear I made a few sounds as well. I hope Gippal does not think I am becoming a whiner and complainer. The past several days have been difficult and I am uncommonly tired. No more excuses. I must remember I am a seasoned Warrior and hardship is no stranger.

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The messenger has been here again, panting and puffing as though he had just completed a marathon. This time he dropped off a somewhat thicker envelope with what looks like a short novel inside.

Just as I thought, we are to leave as soon as possible once the day begins tomorrow. Our mission is to traverse a slice of this desert terrain to another beach where we will find – oh hell – another boat to carry us to our next destination. A rough map is enclosed with directions clearly marked and we are expected to use this scrap of paper and the stars to set our course. I am an adequate navigator and will need to see who else in my team can take a heading from the stars to double-check me. We are expected to take a week to ten days to make the journey. Hmmm. It is not as bad as I had expected.

There is an addendum for squadron leaders only, pointing out that each team is expected to engage in competition with the others for food, water and extra weapons. And a warning the Maesters will not intercede in any internecine struggles. I have long suspected this was their intent – to face us off against one another and cherry-pick the best with no effort on their own part. I had thought it would be less lethal but now I see they are fully prepared to have ninety per cent of the recruits die to achieve their end. Shall I reveal this to my troops or keep it to myself? I must decide.

Upon reflection, I think I shall keep the full extent of this villainy to myself. I shall simply inform the others they are to behave aggressively if challenged by any of the the other teams and give up nothing without a fight. My wisdom in choosing to scavenge in the camps of those who left before us is confirmed. We do not need to seize our side arms from the hands of others. I have assured us an ample supply of pistols, knives and ammunition. Experience is the most valuable resource a Warrior can have. And I am thoroughly experienced.

Baralai is still bent over the bushes in the twilight; I do wonder ... No! I shall not question him. He is finally beginning to play the man and he is going to be a useful member of Squadron Five. Nothing will be gained by even suggesting a lack of trust in him. I don't see Gippal about anywhere. He is probably gossiping with anybody he can find to talk to him. That lad is the most prolix male I have ever met. It's not that he says much; it is that he says little at such great length. Paine is nearby, she watched me read the official message but asked no questions. I shall send her to gather the others so that I can bring them up to date on our training mission.

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This must be my last entry of this very long day. The others were interested but not dismayed by the information I gave them. I am not sure they understand we are to come into conflict with various unpleasant fiends during our pilgrimage. Fiends that will wish to make a meal off our flesh. Baralai asked if he could use magic to fight them. I told him he could use anything which might prove effective. Gippal wanted to know if we could kill our human competition. I told him if there was no other way to resolve a problem, yes. Paine, as usual, was silent and listened with such intensity it seemed to draw the words from my lips to her mind. I advised everyone to sleep as soundly as possible and conserve both energy and strength.

Gippal and Baralai are sharing a sleeping bag. It seems to have become habitual. I am guessing they shared one on the boat. I was in no condition to check and it's none of my business anyway. Just so long as they do not exhaust one another and make themselves unfit to fight. Paine is lying in her place, waiting for me. She nuzzled my ear and bestowed an unequivocal caress on a sensitive area before slipping into her sleeping bag and settling down far to one side, leaving ample room for me. I shall join her with delight, grateful that no further deception is necessary. The tent is dark and no one can see me using this device, nor can I see the others now that the second moon has set. The first will be up soon and there will be sufficient illumination to do what one is inclined to do. The boys are not waiting for more light. I can hear little giggles and squeals from their location already. Well, I shall not let it bother me. They have the right to their pleasure and comfort. What a disaster it would have been for all the males on this team to lust after Paine. Hah! ... And so to bed. Naked would be best but one must adapt.

Jun 22, 20055181297


	9. Chapter 9

**The Confessional**

Part Nine: 

197S9.9.11

It is mid-afternoon of our first day on this mission. A great deal has happened in a short while. The sun is high and the temperature is very hot so we are taking refuge in this cave system until the day grows cooler. I may decide to keep us here until the sun sets since we can travel more quickly during the dark hours and this place is not only extensive and cool but has a vigorous spring in the inner section where we may fill our water containers and wash away the sweat and dirt of the morning's march.

Another reason for traveling at night is so that Baralai can check my calculations for direction. It has turned out that the priestling studied the stars when he was being trained by the hierarchy – something to do with auguring and prophesy. So he knows the skies and it was not surprising he had picked up some knowledge of how to navigate by the position of the pointer planets. As I mentioned before, it is astonishing the variety of talents which one finds in a random selection of persons. Gippal trapped a few of the inhabitants of these caves and roasted them on spits over the fire with some moss Paine collected from the area near the spring so we have fed well and are refreshed. For a miracle, there were few fiends in residence here and we had no difficulty in disposing of them.

During the cleaning out session, I carefully observed both Baralai and Paine. There was no need for the woman to fight, since we had such feeble foes but Baralai held his own nicely without having to resort to magic. He laid about him with his staff and did not retreat even a foot when the creatures attacked him. He is gaining in confidence and skill on a daily basis. It is well.

I have explained to the team I am keeping a journal of the training in order to validate any of our actions which might later be questioned. They seem comfortable with this and give me privacy when they see me take out this device. It was going to be too difficult to keep it a secret in these close quarters, so rather than be discovered surreptitiously muttering into the grid, I chose to reveal a reason for my actions up front and openly. Too much secrecy can harm a unit. The Maesters should have learned that.

The result of my openness is I now have the leisure to record what I have learned and what I suspect without having to wait for the shadows. So – to begin... We set out at the dawn this morning and made good time. Better than I would have thought, given my physical difficulties. I am taking great care to avoid stirring up sand in order to avoid the inevitable contamination of my prostheses. Damn them! I would far rather be dead than condemned to this continual worry about moving. It makes me feel old and I am not! This should be my prime. And look at what I am ... Enough!

We quickly lost sight of the other five groups. Apparently we were each given slightly different maps since I could clearly see each leader choose a different heading. I have an unusually precise sense of direction and was able to keep the four of us on track. I shall confirm my instinctive choice once the stars are visible.

Aside from fighting the occasional fiend, we passed the tedious hours of sand-slogging by observing our less than fascinating surroundings. There are some plants even in the most barren areas and both Paine and Baralai check out each one. It seems Baralai is taking samples from any he recognizes or finds intriguing in order to compound drugs and medications for later use. He has commandeered a largish mesh bag to hold his gleanings until he can reduce them to powder or otherwise prepare them to go among our medical supplies. Paine is no alchemist, although Baralai is teaching her the rudiments, but she has a gift for discerning which herbage is edible and nourishing. She says she grew up in a poor family in a poor section of Spira and learned to eat what grew easily and freely. For whatever reason, it is convenient to have a herbalist in our company. At least we won't end up expiring ignobly, rolling on the sands as we helplessly attempt to empty our bellies of toxins.

Gippal did most of the fighting against the fiends in the open desert. He has the advantage of the rest of us in that his eye is already adjusted to detect the subtle signs of the beasts against the unchanging but disguising background. Years of practice and experience go into developing that sort of quickness. Shortly before we found this refuge, I was beginning to be able to pick up on the clues to the presence of enemies. I am eager to continue with learning the skill. One problem - Baralai gets so absorbed in his plant and mineral analysis he forgets to be alert to the constant danger. I must chide him on that – for his own safety.

Paine told me she was given a short directive from the Maesters just after we broke camp and started out this morning. They commanded her to make sure each individual in the team – I'm not sure if they mean us three males or if they include our Recorder – is clearly filmed stating his name and some identifying phrase. I suppose 'Nooj the Undying' or 'Nooj, the Crusader' will do for me. Gippal could say 'The Cyclops', 'the Al Bhed', or some such. And Baralai – ah, Baralai? 'The Alchemist', 'the Soft-Handed', 'The Staff-User.' I wonder why they want that on record? Paine thinks it's to be used as a recruiting device, to show how people of all races and persuasions are banding together into a common force. I am not sure. ... Perhaps I should identify myself as 'Nooj the Deathseeker' and see what they make of it.

I am quite certain now the Maesters are designing a series of trials which will weed out the unadaptable and the unimaginative. They have some project in mind and it is not training a corps to command the Crusader remnants. These games they are playing do not serve to do that. They are the sort of tests one would give to choose an elite group to perform a dangerous and undefined mission, like sneaking into a fortress and conducting acts of sabotage or working behind the front lines as spies or agents provocateurs. Then why let me in on it? I cannot disguise myself, being instantly identifiable anywhere on the planet. There is still some darkness in their methods although I am convinced I see their broad plans clearly.

Enough brooding. I think I have this up to date and now I want to explore this area a little better and then enforce some rest on the crew so that they will be fresh to move in the dark hours.

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This resting place we have found consists of three 'rooms'. There is the outer area which is little more than a shelf of rock protecting a shallow space which affords shelter from the blazing sun and a location from which one can crouch and keep an eye on one's surroundings. Behind a jumble of stones of various sizes is a narrow slit which admits an adult into the second chamber. This one is lighted by the subdued glow from the outside and is empty of any unusual formations. It is fairly large, would easily hold four sleeping bags and the floor is both smooth and level. Behind this area is the spring, just past a short twisting path between rocky walls. The space suddenly flares out into the largest of the rooms with a gushing flux of water at the far end. This space is clean, mostly free of sand, cool and dimly lit by light seeping through various crevices. The entire complex would make an excellent camp for any company exploring the surrounding terrain. Naturally, there is nothing to survey in the surrounding terrain and, so, this splendid natural base is useless.

By common consent, Baralai has been encouraged to perform his alchemical miracles in the antechamber, the one most open to the air, since his various experiments with plant and mineral are inclined to stink. He is trying differing combinations in the hope of discovering some fresh potions which will be of help in what we may eventually face. Paine has brought him a beaker of water from the spring to wash out his mouth after he tastes some of his concoctions. There is a great deal of spitting involved.

After my survey of the surroundings, Gippal and I sat down and talked while Paine and Baralai played with their collections. It will be useful to have Paine versed in Alchemy as well as her natural talents for finding food so I am not discouraging the lessons Baralai is giving her. Gippal remains fixated on the manner in which the prostheses work so I tried to explain to him the mental controls by which they respond. Since this is not my field of expertise, I do not know if he understood a word of what I said. He wanted to do some probing and testing but I am not inclined to be a lab animal any longer and refused. With courtesy. I think ... at least I tried. The Al Bhed seems to look upon me as an opportunity for exploring the nexus between flesh and machine. I am both more and less than that but he is blind to it. So far we have been able to treat one another with what passes for courtesy. He is young and, if he is permitted to grow up, he will learn manners or spend his free time dueling until he loses the other eye.

If we are to journey through the night, it will be necessary to sleep soon. My first thought was to order separate sleeping arrangements but greater reflection has convinced me we are unlikely to find so comfortable and suitable a camping ground ahead of us and this may well be the last opportunity one or more of us will have to express our affection toward our partner, so I have abandoned that plan. We shall sleep as we will and for me that means in the arms of Paine. Naked.

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We are making good time, moving in the darkness. Gippal has night vision almost equal to mine so we are able to set the pace for the other two. The only disadvantage to moving during the night is the danger of encountering a group of fiends – or for that matter, fellow recruits – without seeing them from a distance and being able to prepare. I am willing to chance that for the greater ease of movement without the excessive heat and the less pervasive risk of running out of water.

We woke easily at our predetermined time and washed in the icy water of the spring. In the close confines of this training mission, we have shed whatever modesty we had and practice custody of our eyes instead. I try to hide as much of the ruined portions of my body as I can without making it even more noticeable but I no longer obsess about it. My actions are solely for the comfort of those who may not want to see what happens when flesh melts. Clean, refreshed and heavy with supplies of drinking water, we have found the way surprisingly easy. I can hear no sounds of humans in the quietness of the desert and that leads me to believe the other teams are continuing to sleep at night and sweat their ways onward under the unforgiving sun.

We shall try to march through the midday unless we find a halting place as perfect as the last one. I must remember to have us do the identification drill so that Paine will not get into trouble with our masters. I have decided simply to call myself 'Nooj' with no further identifiers. If I with my uniqueness am not known – who is? Paine has told the others what is required and it is up to them what they want to call themselves. The information is bound to be edited before it is disseminated anyway. I don't think we have had any honest news on Spira since the resurrection of Sin.

What?

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We have fought our first night battle and fared not too badly. Paine dropped her recorder at the beginning and only recovered it after disposing of several of the band of fiends which ambushed us. There were about twenty of the creatures, moderately sized lizard like beasts expelling poisonous fumes and attacking with sharp claws on all their extremities. Gippal recognized the type if not the exact species and immediately warned us not to inhale the cloudy vapors which surrounded them. Baralai performed creditably as well, lashing about with abandon and crushing skulls with his staff. He was right in his assessment of his skills. He is doubtless better with the staff than with the gun, at least in the dim light of one moon.

Gippal and I killed the majority of the assailants, since we have the sharpest vision in darkness. I was satisfied with my performance even though I would have been happier with a sword. The night gives me a small advantage which I had not anticipated. I will pass muster in this new discipline; that is now proved.

We took a few minor injuries – Paine has a scratch on her upper right thigh and Gippal was punctured in the side by one of the fore-claws of the last fiend he slaughtered. I think he was being careless when it happened. The salves Baralai compounded earlier were of great value. The wounds were not poisoned or infected because of the rapid care we were able to supply. Oh, one other thing - before I could get my gun raised, I pummeled one of the beasts to death with the cane. I suppose that makes it a weapon too. Whatever works.

We were slightly euphoric with our victory and toasted one another with water from our supply. I had to stop excessive use of the water since I do not know when we will find another source. Happily, the discipline I worked so hard to instill back at the base camp seems to have taken root. The other three obey me without protest. We have rested enough now and must be on our way if we are to cover the required distance before we must make camp.

I should be pleased with the way the unit worked together and held its ground and I am. Still there is the voice in the back of my head mocking me for my participation in this series of games and continually pointing out the fact I am only a shadow of the Warrior I once was. I was Nooj the Undying who led scores of men and now I am a crippled freak, commander of a Cyclops, a failed priest and a woman. I am a broken tiger, now the lord only of my narrow cage.

Jun 24, 20055181297


	10. Chapter 10

**The Confessional**

Part Ten: 

197S9.9.14

It is nearly impossible to use the cane in loose sand. There is nothing to press against so I lurch even more awkwardly than usual and my pace is slowed. Nowhere to make a proper camp so we pitch the tent on the sand and try to sleep during the heat of the day and ration our water.

The killing of random groupings of fiends has become so common-place as to be tedious. Most of the ones we encounter are the poison breath lizards. We have worked out a routine – Gippal and I do the exterminating with Baralai as the back-up to catch any which threaten to get past us. Paine records – as is her duty. She has not needed to join the fighting since the first night. Another advantage to traveling by moonlight – there are almost no flying monsters which attack in the dark. Not even the leather-winged blood suckers I was familiar with before my injuries.

With no place to process the materials he collects, Baralai is a walking bundle of leaves and mineral chunks, bulging like a gourmand on a tasting tour. We are all tired and dirty; my arm and leg feel sticky and the precise grip of my left hand is compromised. I can smell myself and the others. I hate the desert with its heat and unchanging vista.

Paine got her required recordings two mornings ago. We were exploring some steep dunes, trying to find a way around rather than climb and descend them. When she called to me, I just turned my head and spoke my name. The others did much the same with a short identifying tag. It will have to do. Not as though it were important. They'll be edited anyway so why bother?

That same morning we made passing connection with another of the teams landed on this shore along with us. Team Three, as Paine identified it, was nearby and peppered our position with projectiles. Had they been better shots, whey would have gained an advantage before we knew they were there. As it was, we sent a few shots in their direction and they scurried away like the vermin they are. Thus alerted, we scanned the surrounding area and saw a number of dust clouds in the distance. It appears we are coming back together as we follow our crude maps. Interesting.

Since the water is running perilously low, I have issued survival orders to my group. I have told them to resist urination since the waste water will be reabsorbed into the body after a period of time. Of course, to recycle the moisture too often would be fatal but it is a useful thing to know in order to prolong the time before one dies of dehydration. I'm surprised Gippal did not know this. It is a basic skill taught to Warriors who must be prepared for anything. I have also told them each to find a small pebble to suck on. That will help stimulate the flow of saliva in the mouth and ease the worst of the thirst. It is becoming difficult for me to speak into this device because of the dryness of my tongue.

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1979.9.16

This has been an eventful day. We have managed to replenish our water to some extent and are more comfortable as a result. The others are inside the tent, sleeping I hope. They now know more about me than I wanted them to know just yet. I suppose I should record the event myself since I am sure Paine's camera does not give the whole story.

We, half conscious, bleary-eyed from exhaustion and dehydration, had stumbled into a nest of fiends both larger and more numerous than the usual collection. Our immediate ammunition was soon spent and Gippal had turned to his side arms and Baralai was relying more than usual on his staff. I found myself facing a sand-bear with my weapon empty and it came to me this would be an ideal time to step into Nothingness. The team was well trained and almost half-way through the trek. They could get the remainder of the way without me. My machina limbs were choked with sand and becoming increasingly burdensome. I had been hunting my dying place long enough and had postponed the decision again and again. All these thoughts swept through my mind in a flash and I realized this was my chance. The others were shouting and attempting to save themselves, so I stepped toward the beast and let the useless gun slip out of my hand. I could hardly grip it anyway with the sand clogging the mechanisms of my fingers. As I walked into the reach of the massive paws and the fanged mouth, I was serene – this was the right time and the right place. I would be free.

Then there came confusion with noise and lights. I thought I had made the transition. Damn! Damn! Damn!

I screamed at Paine. She had no right to kill the monster. It was my life and my death which were at stake there. It was my choice! I do not want to live. Why can't she understand that? Sharing my bed does not give her permission to interfere in my decisions. I should never have permitted her to get so close, to take such liberties. I could be dead and at peace now were it not for her interference. Damn!

Gippal caught on to my purpose at once and quickly explained it to Baralai. Now they all look at me as though I am some sort of greater freak than even my misshapen body makes me. They move around me carefully as if I might lash out at a touch. Well, I might. I hunger for death as I once hungered for glory.

Immediately after the event, we were all too tired to react much. That had to wait until we had dug more ammunition out of our packs, reloaded our weapons and tried to forget about our thirst. It is probably as well none of us had the spit to grease the words we might have said.

We went on another few hours, dragging ourselves over dunes and sliding down sand chutes, when Gippal claimed to scent water. The rest of us were too far gone to argue and just waited like so many dumb animals as he sniffled and snorted his way to a small defile under a ridge of rock. He did some scraping away of the surface material and unearthed a small basin into which water slowly seeped. We spent enough time there to fill as many of our canteens as we could and to lie on our stomachs lapping up the warm liquid like a pack of dogs. There wasn't enough to wash but at least we can now expel the thick and stinking urine from our bladders and avoid the risk of self poisoning.

Still later, when we had paused for the afternoon heat and pitched the tent, Gippal did the best he could with lubricating and cleaning the moving potions of my limbs. I had fallen down so often the knee would no longer bend. As usual, he did an excellent job – given the conditions under which he was forced to work – and I can move more easily. I expressed my thanks and that was the end of it. We did not talk as we usually do when he is performing that service. There seems nothing to say.

The basic problem is that none of the others understand the concept of Deathseeker. They were not reared in the Warrior tradition and do not accept it is better to hunt Death than to dishonor one's name.

I was a Warrior of note when I fell to the Sin spawn. By all rights, I should have died from my injuries. But those vivisectionists who thought themselves the arbiters of life and death patched me together with their vile machinery and made me what I am now - neither human nor machina but an unholy merging of the two disparate creations. I am something alien to all other beings on Spira. The Al Bhed renegade engineers have condemned me to a twilight existence on the edge of reality where I am isolated from the world and its inhabitants. ... I am so utterly lonely.

And I am no longer fit for the only profession I have ever known. My eyes are damaged, my gait uncertain, my mechanical limbs subject to constant failure – I, once a great swordsman, can no longer even swing a blade without falling on my arse. I am useless and haunted by what I was – all of what I was. I am a disgrace to my lineage and have no recourse other than to seek my quietus. Damn Paine! She should have let it work out as I set it in motion. Why did she interfere?

What is worse is the dread my hidden history in the Crusaders may surface and I will be brought up on charges. With no longer the ability to physically defend myself, I would be summarily executed were that to happen. The nightmares are the memories of actual events – I can no longer doubt that. All I can do is to sink them as deeply as possible and hope I can die before they become...

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Paine interrupted me a few moments ago. I was propped against the back of the tent, in the meager shade afforded by the canvas when she suddenly appeared. I have not been very observant the past few days; she looks thin and drawn, not like her normal vibrant self. This damnable desert has sucked the youth out of us leaving us prematurely aged husks of what we were when we started.

Paine wanted to try to justify her actions anent the sand-bear. She seems to feel a sense of both pride and guilt that she frustrated my plans and as she so foolishly says, saved my life. I am thankful she did not try to touch me. I feel so filthy I can hardly stand to be near myself. I assured her nothing important need change between us and send her away before I said anything I might regret. I am in no mood for companionship.

In her apology – I suppose it can be called that – Paine did reveal something which horrifies me. I have taken to talking in my sleep, or at least muttering. She had heard enough to make her alert to the possibility I might decide to die soon. That is why she was so quick with her defense. So, now I must be careful not to sleep in her arms when I am again clean enough to do so. Another consolation lost.

She did not say if I had spoken of my nightmares – those recurrent memories of dark acts I committed whilst in the Crusaders. I am foolish to continue to worry about events which are now in a past so distant as to be remembered only by me. Besides, all men do things in war which they would not do in a more peaceful world. I have done nothing to soil my name. I have fought the designated enemy with all my powers. There is no need to be worried or to care if my former behavior sees the light of day. That was another man, one vastly different from this half-human who lumbers over this battlefield. I have no reason to fear the lex talionis. I am becoming a poltroon, brooding on these things. Where is my mental discipline? Those acts are forgotten! And they were never criminal in the first place. Ah!

Still I hope she did not hear me whine about my sins. I should not like to put her in the position of being either a traitor or an abettor of my actions. I have lived too damn long. Things are becoming too complicated for me to reconcile with my honour. I should have died with my arm and leg. Those who saved me did me no favor, forcing me to live without the means to survive in my most private self. I should stand up now and walk into the desert alone while the other three are sleeping. But I will not do that. I will play the fool and wait for another chance to go down fighting – that is my creed.

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197S9.9.17

Still no relief. We drag ourselves through these endless, unvarying, hideous heaps of sand like maggots crawling over a giant's corpse. From time to time, Gippal starts sniffing and uncovers another seepage hollow and we obediently flop down on our bellies and lap like the brute beasts we have become and wait forever for our pitiful canteens to fill with the hot, flat, foul-tasting liquid. We have been reduced to unthinking animals – killing the fiends we cannot avoid like a band of automatons, then lurching on, heads down and speechless. This desert is an outpost of Hell. Why in the name of the Eldest Gods would anyone want this place and call it Home? The Al Bhed are well rid of it.

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197S9.9.18

As we make our tedious way though this unbearably boring terrain, I can occasionally hear the faint sounds of other parties, a clank or a muffled curse. I think we are coming together again. As Baralai and I separately read the stars and confirm our conclusions, we are within a day or so of ending this trek. I wonder if the other teams have fared better than we, if they have taken any losses. At least I will be able to say I brought this Group Five intact through the trial. We are four unspeakably dirty, shriveled and exhausted candidates for whatever lies in the labyrinthine minds of the Maesters but we are alive. I am too tired even to appreciate the irony of that last statement.

Jul 1, 20055181296


	11. Chapter 11

**The Confessional**

Part Eleven: 

197S0.9.19

I am finally clean again, physically if not morally. I have found a place in this new refuge to be alone and try to adequately describe for the record what has taken place since the last entry I made into this journal. It will take a while. I note the time stamp has advanced so, technically, what I am about to describe happened yesterday. I shall report what occurred as clearly and succinctly as possible, not to make a record for the Maesters and their masters but to assure my own role is not misunderstood.

We were floundering through the sand without much direction or purpose when we spotted another group of four on the horizon. It was evident we were converging and, since I could see no reason for us to do so, I was about to direct our team to turn a little aside when Gippal began half-loping toward an outcropping of rock to our left. He disappeared for a moment and then emerged crying out he had found a roomy cave with a spring! Naturally that galvanized the other three of us and we plunged headlong into the pit he had discovered. We were splashing ourselves with the first cold water in eight days when we began taking fire.

The other team, Paine later told me it was the renegade Group Three again, had obviously decided to try to exterminate us and claim the water for itself. As a Warrior Captain, I was inclined to invite them to share since I long ago learned it is unwise for a force to attack those on its own side. However, the instructions from the Maesters were clear. We were intended to struggle team against team for all resources. So we fought and we won. We killed one of the opposition, the one whom Baralai had healed on the boat, the one who had accosted Paine. Whereupon the leader of the team, declining to cut his losses, took umbrage and – I expect because he seems the weakest of us – accused poor Baralai of murder and challenged him to an individual fight to the death.

Before I could intervene, the priestling accepted. I have no doubt at all Baralai could have easily taken the other had he been at his full strength and unwounded. But he had been shot in the hip during the melee and was limping worse than I.

Since I was the only regular military man in attendance, I stepped forward and, proclaiming myself (thank Ixion, the other captain knew of my reputation), took charge. I commanded both sides pull back until the proper conditions for a duel could be established and also instructed the recruits present – all of them – be permitted to freely partake of the water and fill their canteens. By this time, two more teams had appeared and all seemed duly impressed by my sense of impartiality and devotion to the common good. I am in line to become vastly more popular than the Maesters and may, upon consideration, usurp their authority. (The last sentence was an attempt to interject some humor into this entry. I wish I knew how to do selective erasures; that does not belong in this journal.)

After the other eleven men had refreshed themselves, I ordered them to leave the cave and pitch their tents outside while our group made ready for the encounter. I sent the body of the slain man with them since it was adding nothing to the atmosphere of the cave. I would think they would give it a proper burial; bodies do not keep well in this heat – dry as it is. In the humid confines of this chamber, the putrefaction would have been accelerated.

As soon as we were alone, Gippal tackled me with the not unexpected proposal that the Judas pistol be brought into play. Baralai, who with Paine's help, was tending the wound in his hip, insisted he did not need the gun and would fight with his own staff. Technically, the choice of weapons is his – he being the challenged party. Gippal became quite heated, pointing out Baralai was not physically capable of close quarter fighting with a staff and another blow to his buttocks would disable him entirely. Paine agreed with Gippal, having taken for granted the loathsome pistol would be the weapon of choice, and bent her charms toward the task of persuading the priestling.

I stopped listening to the arguments, knowing the final word would be mine. I am a man of honor whose probity is known to any who know my name. I have never in my career as a Warrior fought less than fairly. This was not my personal fight here and now although it involved my team and a young man for whom I have a certain respect. It would be a shame to lose him to a bully and a liar. Since my private plans had been aborted, I had formed a firm intent to get the others to the designated destination intact. It had become a point of honor for me. ... So, in effect, I had no choice.

But to take advantage of so vile an object as that bedamned pistol! How could I countenance that? I would not deign to use it to defend myself; how could I permit another, one under my command, to touch it? His chances without some sort of edge were slight, given his wound and his experience. In addition, the challenger outweighed him by at least a hundredweight. If he were whole – but he wasn't.

I knew perfectly well when I told the assembled teams what the conditions for the duel were to be, they would trust me to be fair because of my reputation. I am universally considered to be the exemplar of honesty in the Crusaders and, hence, even more so amongst this untested mob. Was it worth committing the first truly disgraceful act in my life in order to save this boy? This was my dilemma.

I cannot possibly capture in this uninflected journal the battle I fought with my self. On the one hand, I had my loyalty and responsibility toward the three who depended upon me to lead them through these absurd tests and trials. I owed each of them my best efforts to protect them no matter what the conditions. On the other hand, I had the image I hold, held, of myself. For all my life, I have sacrificed and labored to preserve that image of the chivalrous Warrior , the man who prizes honor above life. Everything I have ever done since I took up this profession has been done in furtherance of that ideal – yes, even those things which haunt my sleep were done against the enemies of my sworn allegiance and, by implication, at its behest. And now I had to choose between the death of a young one who wanted to live and the use of a device which would besmirch any who knowingly accepted it.

Reliving that time makes me want to reverse everything which has happened since I went to Mushroom Rock Road. I should have resisted the pressures to try out for this misbegotten position. I should have contented myself with fighting on the edges of a regular force until I could find a way to die. It was an error to accept the captaincy of this crew. I have permitted myself to grow too attached to them. Never in my career in the Crusaders would I have even considered the use of such tactics to win, no matter the case. ... It is far too late to second-guess myself; I must carry the burden of my decision until I take that leap into Nothingness. Let it be soon! Let it be soon!

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I am a fool. Nothing is served by brooding over a decision made and acted upon. I shall make this report without further justifications for my actions. I have done what I have done and it cannot be undone. It was my private choice and I shall live with it, privately.

I asked Gippal for the case holding the dueling pistols. I then instructed Baralai in the subtle differences between the two guns. In addition I told the priestling to aim wide so that only one bullet hole would be found in the body of his enemy. It would not do for there to be two. It was my intent to hold the box between the antagonists so that the weapons lay with neither nearer either's hand. The safe pistol was to be positioned so that it would be natural for Baralai to grip it with his favored hand, the right. I would count down to three and at my word, each man would take a pistol, turn so his back touched that of the other and begin walking, again at my word. When I reached 'ten', they would turn, raise their weapons and fire. If my instructions were followed, it would not matter how badly Baralai aimed; if his opponent held his gun properly, he was a dead man. So I sold my honor for the Yevonite's life.

It all went off as I had planned. Everyone played his part to perfection. Baralai had been conditioned to obey me by the arguments of the other two and so was no real problem although he grumbled a little. As I expected, my presence gave guarantees of fairness to those gathered as witnesses and no cry was raised against my instructions. No one seemed to like the captain of Group Three much anyway. He was a braggart and a wastrel with no leadership qualities from what I heard afterwards. As he lay dying on the sand outside the cave, the fatal pistol fallen from his hand, I beckoned to Gippal who – quick to understand as usual – scooped up both guns and, returning them to their box, hastily vanished back inside the shelter. I could not afford to know where they were in case the Maesters questioned me.

That is what happened as clearly and baldly as I can tell it. After the other teams retreated to their beds, fat with the water I permitted them to take, we of Group Five came into the rear of this cave and, silently, stripped off our filthy clothes and washed in the icy water gushing from the alcove. I stayed longer than the others, shivering and gasping, trying to wash away not only the sweat and dirt of these past days but the viler stain on my soul. Hopeless. It is my burden now. Baralai must never know what I paid to make that choice. It has become just another reason for me to tear off the garment of flesh I wear with such unease.

When I at length emerged and pulled on fresh clothes, Gippal came and, without speaking, knelt at my feet and tended the sand contaminated prostheses. I can use them fully again and expressed my gratitude for his services. He just looked at me with what seemed to be compassion and went away. As it come to this, that my own followers pity me?

It is as though he knew what the decision cost me and, if he knows, soon so will the others. He is not the most perfect repository for secrets in this world. How does he know my private struggle? Am I only reading my own thoughts in his actions and glances? Am I imagining I am so transparent as all that? Rather than accept his condescending pity, I would bash my brains out on this wall before me. Stop! He cannot know; there is no way for him to know. I am making too much of a stunned glance. Of course, he is solemn; we all are.

Now I shall try to sleep. I shall take Paine in my arms, if she will have me, and relish the life in her body and then, setting my nightmares far to the back of my mind and holding her as an amulet against the horrors, try to sleep.

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The messenger who serves the Maesters just appeared, puffing and blowing as though he had run all the way from the first beach. It seems the Mighty Ones, the Speakers of Truth, the Guardians of the Faith want to see all four of us tomorrow – that is today – at mid-morning. They have set up their headquarters a mile away and will await us in their tent. To hell with them! I am going to bed with Paine; I'll think about them later.

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Another hurtle leapt. We have been interviewed by our Maesters. Separately, of course. They are marginally smart enough to know they should not let us conspire together. Had I been managing the situation, I would have called the four of us in immediately after the duel was completed, before we had a chance to synchronize our stories and make them proof against any outside prying. But these idiots do not know how the minds of those bonded in battle work, how comrades cleave together against all others. Fools!

Baralai was interrogated first. He says he simply told them he was in a state of shock after the event and remembers nothing until we held him under the cold water and he collapsed with relief. I can just see the faces of the overlords hearing that disingenuous statement. The boy has a talent for subterfuge; he will go far.

Paine was next. She reports they seemed to have little interest in her, she being only a Recorder. She answered all they asked in monosyllables, volunteering nothing and they soon released her. Since she was of no further value and they were ignoring her, she casually picked up a couple of bottles of decent brandy on her way out, handing them to Baralai to conceal in his voluminous robes. Thievery was the one skill I did not suspect of her.

Then Gippal swaggered into the Presence and lied like the professional he is. Later, he spent some time regaling me with the details of the story he told the credulous numbskulls about how the pistols had been found half-buried in sand as we struggled along on the trek and how they had mysteriously vanished while everyone was ministering to the fallen man. Oh, it was quite a tale and someday I hope he will find a way to set it down for it belongs amongst the legends of these times. Yes, he and I are talking again. Things seem more of less mended between us now that I have made it so clear my allegiance is to my dependents. That appears to outweigh the fact I am a Deathseeker in matters of the trust they repose in me. In fact, at one point, the Al Bhed addressed me as 'Taydrcaagan' in tones of respect. I think that means 'Deathseeker' in his barbaric tongue. I have heard it whispered by the other three with sidelong glances in my direction.

I was the last to be summoned before the panel. As is my custom at such affairs, I was taciturn. I have been questioned by many boards of inquiry and have learned that one never gets into difficulties with what one does not say. I told them only those things they already knew. Since I had carefully preserved my ignorance of what happened to the pistols, I was able to look them in the face and swear I had no knowledge of their whereabouts. Fortunately, they did not know which questions they should be asking and which areas were worth exploring. They do not have subtle minds. In addition, I could readily tell they were in awe of me and dared not venture into any place I implied to be off limits. When I had finished telling them what I was willing to tell, they thanked me profusely, almost bowing when I turned on my heel and left. My very limp and the sound of my cane were reminders to those cowards of what I had sacrificed for their purposes and served as a reprimand for their own aversion to military duty.

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The brandy was a pleasant treat after this tiresome, useless pilgrimage across the tedious desert. It seems we are to stay in this location until the morrow, which is a relief. That gives us time to wash and dry our spare clothing, absorb as much water as we can and rest. Baralai is busily sorting his samples and compounding what nostrums he can while he has the leisure. The entrance to this cave is a wide, low slit so he can work near the opening and keep the living area free from his alchemical stenches. He is an earnest lad and, once he had absorbed enough brandy to stiffen his courage, came up to me and proclaimed he had made a remedy for my discomfort on the boat. If that is so, he is worth the effort I made to save him.

Gippal is sleeping off his share of the intoxicant. Like all Al Bhed I have heard of, he indulges when he can and does without when there is no source for drugs. He has been oddly respectful since the duel – a fact which makes me somewhat uncomfortable since I still do not know how much he has guessed about the situation. Paine is curled up against his back, sleeping like a kitten. I don't think she is accustomed to strong drink and she had too much in her excitement.

I – I am trying to sort out ideas the way Baralai sorts out leaves and minerals. It is still strange to me I would make a choice like the one I did. I cannot justify it to myself and my mind shies away like a nervous mount when I try to force it to consider the ramifications. I quite literally cannot think about it. This has never happened to me before. I have always had the courage of my decisions and have never found it difficult to contemplate my own thoughts. Now I am incoherent even in my own ears! This is too deep for words, too tightly woven into who I am ... or was. Am I the same man who held his honor so dear? Have I become just one of those common Warriors who do what must be done and think no more about it?

The most acceptable way I can look at what I did is to tell myself I shall die before too much longer and then nothing will matter. When I am dead, I shall not care about what reputation I have left behind – I will not know about it. My honor was of value to me because it kept me upright and functioning in the midst of the maelstrom of war; that was its purpose. Now I am nearing the end of that task, I can manage to continue on my own impetus. ... The fact is – I could not sacrifice the Yevonite on the altar of my principles. That is the truth of it. I do not have the right to impose my moralities and ethics on any other person. If I could have arranged the duel as it worked out without involving myself personally, I would have no qualms now. It is a pity it took my own hand to make it work. Nevertheless, it is done and I must live with it as I can. For the short time I have yet to live.

Paine accepted me last night with enthusiasm. She is a wonderful aid to forgetfulness. She may even be willing for dalliance in the afternoon. I shall suggest it to her. I do not want to think anymore.

Jul 4, 20055181298


	12. Chapter 12

**The Confessional**

Part Twelve: 

197S9.9.19

The day drags on. Paine was entirely agreeable to a bit of togetherness and we took pleasure in one another while the others occupied themselves in their own pursuits. Since we have become lovers she has never denied me. Nor has she shown any reluctance to engage in the activities I find most arousing. Sometimes I wonder about that. Is it natural for a woman of her desirability to be so amenable to the demands of a grotesque creature such as I? Mostly, I am grateful for her compliance and the fact she seems not to find me repellant.

I have issued orders that only Group Five may use this cave until the encampment is broken. The ten other recruits had sufficient time to replenish their water supplies yesterday and can claim the spring again once we have left this place during the coming night. I do not want some vulgar commoner tromping through while I am memorizing the exact curve of my lady's hip. Paine is young again, as are we all. The ample water has plumped us up, smoothed our wrinkles and restored our youth. What the desert takes, the fountain returns. That sounds like the sort of saying Gippal would recite. I wonder if I heard it from him and stowed it away in my mind at some time. It is not my sort of aphorism. What did I know of deserts before this hell?

From what my crew of excellent eavesdroppers tell me, everyone who was present at the duel has been questioned at least once. The focus of the interrogations is – naturally enough – the case of pistols. They must be of even more value than I had thought if the Maesters are willing to upset their careful time-table of events in order to recover them. They are so foolish. All this excitement only makes the weapons loom more desirable in the eyes of those who hear of them. If I did not know them to be safely stowed away in a place known only to Gippal, I would have my team out hunting them as all the others are doing. Our excuse is that we are obedient to the will of our overlords. Hah!

While I was otherwise occupied, Baralai was sent for again and more closely queried by the solemn imbeciles. He assures me he continued to play the part of the innocent who lost sight of his own weapon as soon as he realized he had killed his man. When he opens those pellucid eyes and droops that girlish mouth, he is utterly convincing. I almost laughed at his recreation of his second go before the panel.

Now the three junior members are amusing themselves by telling lies to one another. It seems to be some sort of game in which the most elaborate and incredible story takes the prize. The prize? That would be a drubbing from the two losers. They are so young and so carefree. I envy them. I am not that much older in years but I am much taller and heavier – even without the machina attachments to me I would be heavier. And I feel aeons older. As I watch them play, I think I was never as young as they, not when I was still damp from my mother's womb was I so young.

I seem to be coming to terms with the loss of my honor. There are entire minutes when I do not think about it. I keep telling myself I spent the currency of my probity in a good cause. Looking at Baralai, I can almost believe that. Again and again, I revisit my dilemma and can find no better answer than the one I gave. It need not be fatal ... There I go again, confusing matters and making a mockery of my most deeply held beliefs. I have confirmed it is only the proximity of my death which justifies my action. That and the immorality of imposing my standards on another to his disservice. Enough! I will not climb on that round-about for another ride. Until some new data is available, there is no point in raking through the ashes of my decision. It is time I did something positive during this period of rest.

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I have, myself, gone amongst the tents of the other teams, talking to their leaders and assessing their strengths. To my astonishment, we have fared the best of this lot. Of course, Group Three is in dire conditions having lost half its numbers. They are a down in the mouth pair and hinted they would like to join my team. I do not want them. They are not suitable material even for cannon fodder. That unfit Captain of theirs so thoroughly destroyed any spirit they might have had they are little more than servant stuff now and I will not burden my agile well-trained crew with sniveling ne'er do wells. Let the Maesters find a place for them; they created them.

It was the other two groups which surprised me – although I should have expected what I found. The eight who make up the teams are exhausted, dehydrated – in spite of the water we have shared with them – and discouraged. They are suffering from dysentery, assorted insect bites and sand blindness. It is apparent their respective commanders knew nothing about how to prepare them for the ordeal or to impose any sort of discipline upon them. If the others landed on this shore have fared as badly and the the ones sent to other areas are equally misled, we shall have no difficulty winning our places in the front rank of the recruits. Indeed, we will be the only ones who actually survive the training intact. I do not know whether to curse the careless wasting of men by those who designed this exercise or to sneer at the ignorance of the so-called Maester class. It is sickening to a man of my experience to see such wholesale misuse of potential fighters.

So far as I have been able to learn both from my own interviewing and the prying of my crew, I am the only man of formal military training in this misbegotten desert. Ixion knows the Maesters have none and if the dead leader of Group Three is a fair example of what the other teams are stuck with, it is a miracle any of those involved have survived. I wonder just how many individuals our lords need that they are so profligate with their volunteers.

All the others in this encampment have also been closely interrogated about what happened to the pistols once the duel was over. That seems to be worrying the idiots to an uncommon degree. It gives me intense pleasure to know I have troubled them so much. It is yet another assurance I made the right choice no matter the price to me.

It has occurred to me if I am ever to use this journal to document charges against our leaders, I will have to trust Gippal to help me purify the pages. I have set down too many purely personal comments in here. On the other hand, I do not think I want Gippal to read these at all. I shall probably bury this damned instrument somewhere in the wilderness and simply kill the worst of the Maesters. I cannot be sure charges against them would be heard in any case. And killing men is no novelty to me.

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When I returned from my turn around the camp, my brats were still engaged in story telling. Since I have nothing more important to do at the moment, I listened.

Gippal was talking about Home, that fabled metropolis of the Al Bhed which was long ago destroyed by Sin and never re-built. He spoke of it as if it still stood. His words were eloquent and so convincing I found myself wondering if he was that excellent a story-teller or if the city might not be hidden somewhere in this endless waste of sand. It is not likely; with even the most casual survey something so large as Home was said to be would be quickly located. I do not believe there is a magic great enough and so universally effective as to be able to screen a city.

Still there remains the fact Gippal is a tale-spinner of considerable talent and might describe the loss of his birthplace with persuasive detail. But why would he choose to lie to us – his battle mates – about something so innocuous? No harm would come if the world knew Home had been rebuilt or never destroyed at all. In fact, I rather think the pressure on the scattered Al Bhed to assimilate would be eased were it known they had an actual place to go back to. It is my feeling the prejudice against that race is principally due to the fact they are rootless and hence inclined to move into other societies and, like cuckoos, edge out the natives in those professions they favor. Take the engineering world. It is virtually inaccessible to anyone save an Al Bhed these days. If they still had the refuge of their Home, they could make it into the center of advances in machina and open up the less advanced portions of that field to those of other races who wished to study with the experts. They might even become a creditable counter balance to the Yevonite diktat against the physical sciences. There would be much for the Al Bhed to gain were Home still intact.

No, I do not believe Home is still there, no matter how convincingly our Gippal describes it or with what longing his voice resonates. He is dreaming, wishing, inventing. Were he not a mechanic, he would be a prosodist, traveling the world rhyming his stories to large audiences for his living. He is skilled and he has entertained me. Taken my mind off more unpleasant thoughts.

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We have all dozed for a while and were awakened by a stir outside. Baralai, being restless, went to see what had happened. He reports the rest of the six groups landed on this shore have turned up. Well, not exactly the rest. Those of us already here accounted for four of the teams which left only two still in the interior. Now of those eight individuals, three have straggled into the encampment. Let me count: Group One is intact but exhausted; the same is true of Group Two. They and Group Three, which has lost two of its members, have been here for the past day. Group Four has only its Recorder left, the one who can't stop crying; Group Five – our group - is intact and strong. Group Six has two still alive. That is seven gone out of twenty-four and only four still capable of fighting or making it on to the the destination without help. If the Maesters wanted a winnowing program, they got it. I am curious to know if the others who were deposited on other shores fared as badly. Maybe we were given the most taxing of the trials, the hardest training. I may drop by the tent of the Gormless Ones and see what they are saying. I must inform them of our intention to leave at twilight anyway.

In the meantime, since there is not now any reason to impose privacy on the cave, I shall issue orders to permit the thirteen remaining recruits to wash and drink from the fountain I control. I am not a monster, after all.

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It has occurred to me that I have not seen the other women who sailed with us. They were obviously parts of other Groups and now they are gone. I was fully aware they played the whore at least during the first part of the voyage, while I was still competent to observe, but that is a normal role for some female participants in warfare and came as no surprise to one of my experience. I have used such myself upon occasion when nothing better offered itself. But now they are missing. Can it be only Paine of her sex has survived this training? Thank Ixion she was under my care. As I watch the desert desiccated ones drag themselves to the back of this cave to the spring, I cannot help but compare them to my Group. A thorough grounding in the ways of behaving under stress is always useful.

This day has gone on much too long. With nothing of importance to occupy me, my brain is thrashing about like a caged beast. I know better than to revisit old choices and, yet, I keep doing it. All the old choices, not just the most recent. Had I been less foolhardy in my Crusader days, I might well be a whole man today, fighting at the head of my professional unit and not pinned down by this absurd gaming of the Maesters. Had that been true, these three who I have led thus far would probably be dead. Well, not the Al Bhed, maybe, but certainly the priestling and the woman. It would have made no difference to me and ultimately in the way of the world had they died for I would not have known them had I not become a freak. Thinking of their useless deaths drives me wild. I hate waste, especially the senseless waste of useful beings.

This is precisely the sort of brooding I have been taught to avoid. Hypothesis contrary to fact! Nothing is to be found in such ridiculous circular non-reasoning. I no longer seem to be master of my own mind. And I hurt! The constant stress of trying to keep my balance with the cane which is of slight use on this shifting terrain, the repeated falls when the sand-clogged leg has collapsed beneath me, the pull on the remaining muscles to do the work of those I no longer have – all this has aggravated the areas where the damned machina have been inserted into or bolted onto me and I cannot move without pain. Naturally, I do not permit any manifestation of this to show upon my countenance but I feel I am screaming inside. Here, in this journal, I will admit that if only because I am being honest here, totally honest.

The sun is approaching the horizon. Soon Group Five must start out on the last leg of this illogical trek. I need to go inform the Maesters of our intent and set the other three to packing. When I have done that, I think I may ask Baralai if he has any medications for pain. If I can think of a way to ask without admitting I am suffering.

Jul 9, 20055181296


	13. Chapter 13

The Confessional Part Thirteen: 

197S9.9.20

It is morning and we are still in the cave. I went to the headquarters tent about sunset yesterday to inform the Mighty Ones we were intending to begin our final push toward the designated terminus when darkness fell and the air became cooler. This was primarily to serve as notice we would no longer be holding the spring and its life-preserving waters as our personal property. I was told by the Military Minds who designed this murderous training program that we were to stay put for another day, that the training had been declared finished and the surviving recruits would make the last stage together in order to preserve what was left of the twenty-four who set out at the beginning. I did not deign to argue; such is not the habit of the experienced military man. However, I am confirmed in my opinion they are all religion blinded fools.

When I returned to tell my team to unpack and prepare for another day of boredom, I also directed Gippal to go tell the thirteen camped nearby they were welcome to come bathe, drink and collect water until I directed otherwise. At least I know how to treat an army so as not to break it. By such small gestures of compassion is loyalty won. Were I still whole, I would be tempted to take command and turn this little force against the Maesters, slaughtering them to the man. What they have done to admittedly raw but potentially useful volunteers is nothing short of criminal. This may be the way to create priests, but soldiers are a different case and Warriors the most different of all.

Gippal has done the adjustments and lubrication of my impediments already this morning. It has become a daily routine when we have the time. He approaches me when he sees me unoccupied and gestures. If it is convenient, I nod and he takes out his tools and begins. He seems to find some sort of arcane pleasure in manipulating the rods and pulleys and seeing how many of the supposedly necessary parts he can dispose of. I can only trust he will not simplify until I can no longer move.

Latterly, I have been having a strange series of sensations when he works on the machina. The portions of my living body which were burned in the attack have been insensate since the event. The flesh in that region is, as I have previously noted, seemingly melted and re-hardened with no nerve endings surviving. It is through this dead material the vivisectionists inserted their connectors for the obscene metal and ceramic horrors they grafted onto me. Yet, I think I can feel the fingers and tools of the Al Bhed when he touches that malformed flesh. There is a tingling, almost an erotic stimulus which makes me twitch and catch my breath. It is not exactly feeling, not exactly imagination. I cannot explain what it is save that it is affecting me on a level I have never known before. Much the same thing happens when Paine touches me there. I had thought I was fantasizing about that because I want so much to feel her caress me. Now, I can't be sure. She, like Gippal, seems to find a certain pleasure in stroking the part of my body which I had assumed to be the most repugnant. Have I become so alien I can no longer identify with what humans find loathsome? I am no longer confident of my own judgments. This cannot continue. My self-assurance is the core of my character. It is there the essential 'Me' lies.

I fear I am changing, becoming softer, less stoic. This, too, must be aborted. A Warrior cannot afford softness and I was taught as a child to endure the sort of pain which generally sends others on this planet to their beds or their healers. I cannot afford to change, especially not now. I have the respect and obedience of all those who have made it this far into the training. I cannot permit them to see any weakness in me. They will not be able to go on without someone like me to believe in, so I must be the torch, the banner before them.

I wrote last night of the pain which was tormenting me. The pain it was and is necessary to conceal from any other person. And of my intention to ask Baralai for an anodyne if I could find a way to do so discreetly. Well, a most peculiar thing took place. After I had delivered the instructions of the Maesters and had permitted the other teams to avail themselves of the spring, I went to sit with Paine until it was time for bed. Baralai and Gippal were playing some sort of dice game across the area and a halting progression of the lame and shriveled remnants of the original force was threading its way to the refreshment of the water source. It was not a time to bellow one's need for relief, not in the presence of a mob.

When I had lowered myself to a convenient rock near Paine, I noticed she was holding out her hand. (One of the things about her which pleases me is her reticence; she only speaks when it is needful.) Resting on her palm were two translucent capsules filled with an amber substance in which a number of seed-like solids were embedded. She indicated Baralai had sent them to me for an undefined purpose. I was at first hesitant to take them, not knowing what they meant or might do. I did not want to hurt the Alchemist's feelings but I am wary of what I put into my body. My thought was to pretend to swallow them but in fact to palm them and dispose of them the next time I stepped outside. But I glanced across the room and caught Baralai gazing at me with such confident trust ...

In short, I swallowed the capsules and within a few minutes, less time than I would have believed possible, the acute pain in my body was ebbing like a flood which has finally reached its zenith and is returning to its own place. The screaming in my mind was muted and finally stilled. How did he know my agony? I am certain I gave no clue to any of the others. How could that failed priestling know what was happening inside my mind and body? I do not believe in occult phenomena nor in the reading of another's mind. I can explore my own intelligence at will but no other can intrude, not even Paine. How did he know? I should take him aside and question him but I am reluctant to alarm him anew now he is just beginning to trust me. Ah, it is a conundrum which will keep me from total boredom through another day in this barren land.

The three who follow me are becoming uncannily perceptive in so far as I am concerned. Gippal seems to read my innermost thoughts; Baralai knows when I am hurting; Paine ... she knows more of me than I had intended. She is becoming a part of my life and I cannot permit this. I have no wish to draw her into the path I must follow. It is well we talk so little. I must not say to her what I am not permitted by my own strictures to say.

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It has entered my mind that the increased pain and the increased apparent sensitivity may be in some way related. I was told in great detail by the vivisectionists who rebuilt me what had happened and what had been done. The ruined flesh was, to a large extent, cut away in a series of operations while I lay near death and unconscious. The decision was made to permanently attach the new devices developed by the resident Al Bhed engineers in order to see if they would be effective in re-cycling gravely injured Warriors. I was a fine prospect because of my physical strength and my emotional stability. ... How perceptive of them! So, various methods of attachment were utilized: rods screwed and cemented into the remaining bone of my thigh and rib cage, new synthetic 'bones' of ceramic clamped to whatever they could make use of. I have an entirely Al Bhed created collar bone, scapula and shoulder joint assembly on my left side. They took no particular care because they believed no sensation remained or was ever likely to return in the damaged areas. The only nerves they concerned themselves with were the connections which led from the functioning synthetic intelligence of the new limbs to my living brain. They were determined to prove they could wire their vile creations directly into those parts of the brain which directed the use of them. And they did. It worked – at the cost of making me feel like a puppet master over my own body. Now, I wonder if I am being changed by what they did, by their interventions. Are the machina poisoning me? Are they introducing a peculiar madness into my mind? Are the Yevonites right after all and is this science so evil, so totally alien to the human that no co-existence is possible?

I have told myself the increased pain is due to the inordinate exertion I have subjected my prostheses to but now I question my own explanation. How can I explain the strange sensations I have when Gippal and Paine touch me? Must I explore the very basis of my reality? I wonder what one who studied with the priests for so long as Baralai would have to say? No! He seems to be finally coming to terms with his failed faith; I must not meddle in his personal journey. And I will have no truck with religion, not now that I am so close to my quietus, my escape.

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I have been out to look at the condition of the other thirteen survivors. Even though I gave them all permission to freely use the spring for several hours last evening, the majority of them remain dirty. If the air were not so dry, they would be stinking like a pile of week-old corpses. What is the matter with these men? I should have known they were badly led the instant we boarded that ship. The first thing a commander learns is to see to the well-being of his troops. One of the things I was taught was that an army cannot march if it has trouble with its feet. So I, and my fellow Warriors, were instructed to keep an eye on the hygiene of our command, especially their feet. We were supposed to make sure they washed and changed socks regularly. And I did.

The ones who took control of these recruits didn't even make them wash their faces, let along the less visible parts of their bodies. I am afraid to call for short arms inspection lest their organs have rotten off from filth. Why in the name of the entire pantheon of the Yevonite heavens did not this arrogant, ignorant contingent of High Thinking Maesters include in their number even one man or woman who knew how to maintain an army? They have taken a crowd of eager volunteers who wanted to become soldiers in order to earn a living and have reduced them to this dung heap of cast-aways. I am reluctant to even consider what those sent to wetter climates must look and smell like.

This is a total disgrace and in the Crusaders would have resulted in the wholesale reduction in rank and imprisonment of those responsible. The general malfeasance makes my own acts during my time there seem petty indeed. I never abused my own allies. Nor misled innocent men. Well, I can think of nothing else to do other than order them to go into the cave in pairs, strip naked and wash, inspecting one another. If they have fresh clothes, I shall instruct them to put them on. If not, they must wash their dirty ones and go bare until they dry. In this weather, it won't take long. They must take particular pains with their feet. At least, I shall have done my duty by these pathetic dregs.

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After so carefully surveying the condition of those men not my responsibility, I felt I should take a somewhat more detailed look at my own team. Gippal remains much as he has always been. It is no surprise he survived the desert with his body and spirit intact. He was born and reared here, if what I understand of his implied history is correct. He looks like a native of this clime, being a compact mass of energy and vitality. He is always talking, seldom making much sense, but acting as a morale booster to the others much of the time. He has proven himself to be both loyal and useful to the entire company. I, personally, owe him more than I can repay for his attention to my difficulties with the machina. I do not like being in such a position of inequity with one I command. There must be some way in which I can better adjust the scales. Make a note to explore my options there.

When I look at Baralai, I find myself amazed. He has become a man in these past few days. He is taller and leaner, without the childish roundness of face he had and without that infuriating habit of looking to one side when addressed. Taller? Yes, it is not possible he could have grown this much in so short a while, so I must attribute it to his posture. He stands straighter and does not cringe as he did. His attitude no longer coveys the notion of subservience and shame. He even looks me in the eye from time to time. If his improvement is due to the relationship he has forged with Gippal, so much the better. They will both be better Warriors for it. I feel, however, I deserve some of the credit. Without my careful firmness, I do not think the boy would ever have accepted the necessity of growing up. I am proud of what he has become. He will, I believe, not fail in this venture. He has found what well may be his proper place.

Paine is looking much better after these days of rest. Her skin is the pellucid white it was at the beginning with the scarlet blotches of sun damage gone – thanks to the lotions compiled by our alchemist. She is moving with her usual grace and sureness. The only real change I see in her is a new awareness, not a softness – that will never be a problem for her. It is as if her understanding of humanity has taken form in her eyes and she looks at every individual as though weighing the soul before her, with calm compassion, not severity. When she is within reach, she is always touching me in some way. A hand on my arm, a finger against my wrist, some feathery touch to remind me she is there and she is mine. Not long ago her hand 'accidentally' brushed down the inside of my thigh and I had to turn away hastily until I could exert my will on my reaction. This has begun happening whenever I think too much about her as well. If it keeps on, I shall need to change my manner of dress, perhaps adopt loosened desert garments such as Gippal wears or, even better, the robes of Baralai. It will not do for the leader to display signs of distraction.

Now that I feel the heat of her body so often near me, I am less bothered by her interplay with the others. Paine is mine, at least for the duration of this adventure. I don't know why but I will accept for now that she finds something of value in me and is not eager to run to another lover. ... For her, I would be willing to stay in the desert forever.

I become maudlin. I have a destiny which must be fulfilled. I have accomplished what I was meant to do up until now. My group is the model for all the others. It is trained and in good health. I have done that which was necessary to preserve them. I have acted as a competent commander who cares for his charge. At this time, I am satisfied.

Jul 13, 20055181297


	14. Chapter 14

The Confessional 

Part Fourteen:

197S9.9.21

There is just this final day's march through the edge of the desert to the beach which is our final destination, where the damned ship is waiting to subject me to two more days of torment. The Maesters have conducted another round of questioning about the pistols, this time concentrating on whether anything odd about them came to the attention of any of us. They were so distraught they even queried those who had not been here at the time of the duel. Hah! I knew they were inefficient. I did not realize they were also incredibly stupid. Naturally, no one admitted to noticing anything. Baralai startled them by claiming to have seen something and then, after much dramatic hemming and hawing as he pretended to try to remember, came out with the information about the runes on the ivory handles. He amused us greatly with his recital of his behavior. I think he has learned more than one skill from Gippal.

I must decide what to do about those weapons.

After my last interrogation, I was given my orders for the remainder of our stay on this foul island. It seems to have finally occurred to the Holy Incompetents I am the only one here with any idea what he is doing, so they have placed me in charge of the pathetic remnants of the force they brought to this place. I am to lead them to the beach as a group, through the sand and the scrub, past the fiends, keeping them together and safe. That should be a simple task. Some of my new troops even have arms and can use them. At least they are clean and hydrated so they will not offend even the peculiar fauna of this land. I laugh because there are only sixteen to command. The Maesters kept apologizing for burdening me with this vast horde. Me! I have led hundreds into war at once, have issued orders resulting in a tsunami of men overwhelming an equally great force. Sixteen! Bah! I think I shall let Gippal take charge of the stragglers, those too weak to fight and too broken to care. He has a genial air and is less likely to frighten them than am I. It will be good practice for him. Baralai will watch over the damaged ones and Paine will fight at my side. There is no request for recordings during this march, not any made to her anyway. There are some with cameras left among the other teams and they can do any filming of this ignominious retreat which is needed. Yes, she will fight at my right hand. In this sort of terrain Gippal tells me there will be few fiends so all should be well.

At least these poor devils will get to see what even a single day of good leadership is like.

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Again we are forced to wait before we take to the march. I chafe at having to cool my heels while those who are over me, if only in a titular manner, wrangle amongst themselves. Paine has been spying and tells me they are arguing about whether to waste another day hunting for the pistols. I could not be happier with the discord I have managed to sow in their councils.

My lady and I shared passion last night. We made the most of it for we do not know when we will have so pleasant a bed-chamber or so leisured a time again. Baralai and Gippal sleep on the far side of the cave beyond a slight curve in the wall and are sufficiently involved in their own pursuits not to have any interest in ours. The acoustics of this place work so as to muffle sounds in any event. Knowing this, I find it endearing to watch Paine try to contain her ecstatic cries as she scales the peaks of pleasure.

I look at our bodies as they come together, her perfection and smooth coolness against my twisted and discolored flesh. We are the reflection of one another in the mirrored mazes of the mind. Each time I enter her, I feel I plunge more deeply into her body and her soul. She is my sheath and my hearth. Inside her, I am home as I have never been before. I wish I would never need to withdraw back into the cold isolation of my world. I would exist in her warmth.

Her body is an endless source of spiritual nourishment. She is the wellspring of life and infuses me with the will to go on until the proper ending can be found. She drinks from me as I from her and we complete one another in a strange and satisfying way. I am not sure I could have finished this trial without her. Without her, I might well have walked into the desert at any of a number of times. So when I choose to place her at my side during this coming day, it is for two reasons. I know her to be a more than excellent Warrior with both strength and honor and I want her within my reach. Even if I do not touch her, I want her near enough so that I may. Here, in this private place, I admit my weakness. I am lost without her. She is my anchor, my talisman, my heart.

I know our parting approaches whether either of us wills it or not. I expect and intend to take that step into Nothingness before this game is done. If, for some reason, I am prevented – she will find other ventures to lure her. Such a woman will never be willing to live her life as the nursemaid to a cripple, the companion of a half man. I must take what joy I can during this time beyond time when we are of one creation and she touches me with tenderness and gives me her mouth in which to taste my own essence.

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We finally got on our way. Apparently the more practical of the Fools convinced the Dreamers that the pistols were unlikely to be uncovered by repeated questionings and siftings of the local sands. We made fairly good progress during the morning hours by moderating out pace to that of the weakest and permitting them to regain their strength and courage – such as it it. We encountered only a few nests of the lizard things with the poison and no one was newly injured. Baralai continues to nearly exhaust himself in his efforts to keep the damaged ones functioning. I must warn him to take care of his own body as well. Nothing will be gained if we lose our only Healer and Alchemist to overwork. It is true I know a few rough and ready spells to keep Warriors on their feet and fighting even when wounded, but I have neither the time nor the inclination to minister to my fellow travelers. They must fend for themselves.

There was one somewhat amusing and educational incident which I might as well set down during this enforced rest period. Gippal stumbled across a sand-worm. Without an instant's hesitation, he threw his arms as far around its neck as they would reach and bellowed like a bull who has just mounted a cow. Happily it was more of an infant than a grown fiend and he was able to wrestle it to the ground and start shoving his knives under the scales. The damn thing seems to bleed water! We filled our canteens from the dying beast and drank our fill of the clean sweet liquid gushing from its wounds. It would have been helpful had the Al Bhed bothered to mention this little fact earlier. We might have been on the outlook for these living fountains on the first stage of our journey. Of course, I must be fair and say we saw no small sand-worms during the time we were dying of thirst. And the mature ones all managed to escape leaving their lizard accomplices to do the murderous work. Still it makes me wonder what else Gippal has kept in the locker of his mind. I was mistaken when I thought him incapable of keeping secrets. I wonder in what other areas I have been guilty of a lack of perception where my team is concerned.

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One thing is disturbing me. The Maesters have chosen to follow close behind us. I do not think they are trying to stay within the circle of our protection. There are fewer than a half-dozen of us capable of really fighting and we have our hands full taking care of the damaged ones in the center of our formation. Besides, I can tell from here the Rulers of the Universe are keeping extremely powerful spells cast around their delicate hides. They are taking no chances of encountering even a single fiend. So why are they staying within a few hundred feet of my miniature army? I think they may still think the pistols are to be found if they wait patiently enough and do not want any of us to have the chance of burying them in the sands. I think I will take this opportunity to consult with Baralai. He should know the ways the minds of these fools work and should be able to rule out any truly ridiculous possibilities.

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Baralai assures me it is the habit of the Holy Cowards always to travel under the aegis of an interlocking canopy of spells. They have Warrior Monks but none are in attendance to this set of inflated buffoons. The priestling thinks he may recognize one or two of those who are shepherding us; he cannot be sure because they look different in their 'desert' garb than in their sacerdotal robes and furbelows. He, too, thinks their proximity has something to do with the pistols. They were uncommonly keen on locating them.

In passing, Baralai quietly confirmed he has the sea-sickness remedy to hand. Without making a production of his offer, he made certain I understood that the trip back would be far less stressful for me than the earlier sea voyage. I am more grateful than I care to express to him. It would not be proper to show too much groveling. I was dreading a repeat, even a less intense one, of that first experience with the open ocean. He is a useful chap. It has become evident to me that there is in this mismatched trio of individuals I command to be found a veritable treasure trove of talents and skills. I doubt I could have done better had I been given the dossiers and permitted to select my own crew from amongst all the recruits. Well, enough of brooding. We cannot rest for the remainder of the day. There is not much further to march and we cannot do it on our butts. Time to rouse the rest of them and set them on their way. Finally the terrain is becoming solid enough so that the cane is more help than hindrance. I have learned to hook the handle over my arm when I am using the gun so that I am faring better with all my impediments. For a while, I thought I was going to have to plead for the addition of another arm and hand to manage all I must manage.

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We have gained the beach! I have set those who retained their tents to pitch them and have ordered them to share with those who lost their supplies. We are to stay the night here so that we may sail on the morning tide. Baralai has given Paine the capsules he prepared for me, along with more of the anodynes and she has already begun dosing me against the sickness caused by the sea. I think she is getting a sadistic pleasure from forcing me to swallow the enormous boluses. I swear they are each as big as a mouthful of fellant and much harder to swallow. I am supposed to take three a day, beginning the night before sailing. Paine laughs when I gag. I shall have to teach her more respect for her master. A little roughness will bring her to heel. She likes it rough. Damn! Stop thinking! I become obvious.

The last part of the march led us through a fairly dense infestation of fiends, not the poison lizards, but flying eye-shaped creatures and multi-tentacled serpentine beasts. They are biters and element users but not overly strong. It was amusing to watch Baralai knock the fliers out of the air with his staff and Paine casually step on the fallen eyeballs and burst them. Gippal and I took care of the snake-things, mostly by beheading; they were too scattered to waste shot on. Our heavier knives were quite efficient at the task. I found it was also effective to pinch their heads off with my left hand. The soft tissue gives way easily when I close my fingers. We laughed as we killed and the four of us, reeking of blood and less clean fluids, secured the beach for the rest. Now I smell of the sea water in which I have washed and shall wait for any other instructions from that damned performance artist who brings the messages from on High. I am not sure if the other thirteen are still my responsibility. I shall treat them as such until I am formally relieved. I doubt the Sacred Psychopaths know it is customary to relieve an officer of a duty once it is completed.

Paine has come back with an armload of seaweed. She looks a question at me. Need she ask? Isn't it evident?

Jul 19, 20055181296


	15. Chapter 15

**The Confessional**

Part Fifteen: 

197S9.9.22

We are finally on board the ship and waiting for the tide to take us from this desert. We boarded hurriedly since the dawn brought an army of fiends swarming the beach. It was only the flying eyes and the snakes and we could easily have exterminated them, but the cowards who give our orders commanded camp be struck and boarding to commence as soon as possible. This resulted in one benefit to us – we were not searched as we came on so the pistols remain hidden somewhere about the person of Gippal.

Now that we are properly situated on this revoltingly unsteady form of transportation, I must maintain the facade that this journal is concerned with documenting the facts of this misbegotten enterprise and set down what has transpired thus far.

We are fewer, which makes for more comfort. Baralai, with the assistance of those from other groups who are still functional, got the damaged (both physically and mentally) stowed away in the two sets of private quarters below decks. Yes, those which were used as places of assignation on the way out. Since Paine is the only female remaining and she is mine, there is no need for such facilities – not that many of the more enthusiastic earlier participants are in any shape to use them. Hah!

Before I forget – the gigantic capsules Baralai compounded to combat my nausea problem seem to be working. True, we are not yet actually sailing but the rocking of the ship is not all that far different from the effect of the open sea and I feel no discomfort – so far. When I say I feel no discomfort, I am not being strictly truthful. Swallowing the things still makes me gag and I feel I am forcing a large beetle down my throat three times a day. However, I cannot deny the difficulty with the size is a bagatelle compared to the alternative. I must commend the Alchemist for his skill.

He has also supplied Paine with a sizable number of the pain reducing capsules to use as she sees fit. He seems to consider her my amah and I don't know whether to be amused or annoyed. She doles out the anodynes whenever she seems to think I am more uncomfortable than usual. I confess I take them when she insists and they are extraordinarily effective, enabling me to do those things I must do with far less difficulty. I shall miss this luxury when the group breaks up - as it must inevitably do. I also think the pain control is preventing me from talking in my sleep. I have asked Paine and she insists she has not heard any nocturnal muttering since I began taking the medication.

With the below decks area occupied by the dregs of humanity which made up the other five groups, we have elected to sleep on the open deck. It is more fragrant for one thing and more private for another. I have some business to attend to with my companions and do not wish to be overheard.

The Maesters, as I am told was true on the earlier voyage, have quarters of some extravagance near the bow of the ship in a sort of house-like structure nestled in an area where they can catch the freshest breeze and avoid contact with those they consider beneath them. I think I heard it called a forecastle. But what do I know of nautical terms? I am a Spiran Warrior and that requires knowledge of quite enough specialties. I don't have time to waste learning things that will be of no use, like the Al Bhed language. The important thing is that these Sacred Incompetents have sufficiently separated themselves so that I need not be on guard against their oversight at all times.

Hmmmm ... I wonder what I would do it I found one of them wandering the deck in the night. Now I know the capacities of the machina hand, I can deal with most creatures without an additional weapon. A quick move, followed by a quiet splash ... I suppose I should guard my thoughts more carefully but when I think of the condition of those bewildered haunted-eyed remnants of a putative army... Enough!

It is more than ever obvious to me, as it must be to any other thinking human, that religion and reality do not mix. One is concerned with that which does not and never did exist; the other deals with how we are, in fact, to continue to exist in the world as it is – not as we might wish it to be. That may be why Baralai failed as a priest-in-training. I fancy he was far more aware of the actualities of what surrounded him than a proper priest is permitted to be. And he is much too caring about the physical well-being of his companions. Real priests are only worried about getting their adherents to the Heaven or Heavens of which they prate so much. They spend their time worrying about pyre-flies and not the condition of a soldier's feet. I am not altogether certain I even believe in pyre-flies. Oh, I have seen the sparkling fragments leave a dying thing, but how do I know what the priests blather is the truth? They have presented no proof that unsent souls become fiends. If it were true, there should be far more fiends in urban areas where surely not all people die with one capable of 'sending' conveniently at hand. And pyre-flies? I am inclined to think they are merely a natural effluvium which occurs as the last flame of life is extinguished. When I finally find my ending, I suspect I will go out with a small explosion of pyre-flies and then it will be done with. I wonder if I will see them as my eyes fail and my breathing stops.

This is no time and no place and this journal is certainly not the correct repository for such unproductive musings. I am postponing the interviews I must have and indulging myself unduly. ... Ah! I just felt the deck lurch and I hear a creaking of the wood. We are under sail.

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I am finding the cane an essential for getting around on this ship. Otherwise the unsteadiness of the deck would have me on my arse a dozen times an hour. I never realized how the angle of a plane could change so quickly while remaining a plane. Thanks to the genius of Baralai, my chief complaint so far is vertigo resulting from that which should be steady being not. Also, thanks to Baralai, the incessant stress on the machina limbs is not making me scream inside my head. Paine says nothing but looks volumes as she presses the various capsules on me. I am beginning to feel like a true machine, one which runs on inserted gelatin boluses of differing sizes. At least, I continue to function.

One problem is solved to my complete satisfaction. I have had the interview I intended with Gippal. He was under the impression I wanted him to service the non-human components of my body and seemed rather disappointed when he learned I only wanted his ear, not his hands. The lad has a fixation on my machina parts. I fear leaving them is going to be as hard on him as leaving Baralai, perhaps more so since battle boys are easily found and a man who is half-mechanical is not so readily available on this planet.

When we met at a secluded place by the railing near the stern of the ship, in a sort of alcove, he immediately began talking about the duel. For some reason he is convinced the leader of Group Three had poison about his person and intended to use it to assure the priestling's death. He claims he heard a noise, a kind of sloshing when he wrestled with the man and that sound meant poison. I cannot connect the sound and the presence of a pernicious substance but, then, I am not Al Bhed and maybe that is one of the gifts of the desert. Gippal was quite insistent that he was right. I think he may be trying to convince both of us that I made the right choice when I authorized the use of the Judas pistols. If so, it is a decent and well-meant argument. I asked him if he had told Baralai about his discovery and it seems the boy refuses to discuss it at all. The entire incident must have affected him more deeply than I thought. I really must pay more attention to the morale of my charges.

By initiating a talk about the duel, Gippal gave me the perfect opening to segue into what I wanted to say to him. When I asked, he told me he still carried the shameful weapons within his clothing. It shows great strength of character to be so willing to maintain physical contact with such evil-embrued objects. Even I, heathen that I am, would fear their dishonorable genesis would somehow transfer to me if I kept them so close. They make my somewhat dubious deeds seem clean and wholesome by comparison. Still, the Al Bhed are a practical race, not given to fancies (except as they involve sloshing sounds and poison vials), so Gippal may not have spent much time in contemplation of what he carried.

We found ourselves to be in agreement about the vileness of the pistols. We talked for a while about the extreme efforts expended by the Maesters in their effort to retrieve them and speculated about the real reason they had been brought along on this venture. The best we could come up with was that the loathsome priests are so accustomed to having the odds slanted in their favor, they are always in possession of the means to assure that. We also agreed there were probably any number of other odds eveners we did not know about in the baggage so carefully stowed in the forecastle. It was strangely comforting to hear my most paranoid ideas echoed by the firmly reasonable Gippal.

In the end, we agreed the pistols could not be permitted to come into the hands of dishonorable people. It would be criminal indeed to risk their return to the coffers of the Maesters. So, carefully shielding his actions from the view of any who might suddenly appear and look in our direction, Gippal groped around in his trousers and brought out the weapons, still warm from their hiding place. He handed me the prepared one and I looked at it carefully, memorizing all the details of its construction and markings so that if it ever surfaced again I would know it instantly. It seemed almost to burn me as I held it in my right hand, balancing the weight and admiring the pernicious beauty. I could see Gippal caressing the one he held in a similar fashion. We then looked at one another and with a common decision, reached over the railing and let the guns fall into the sea simultaneously. They made only the faintest of splashes which would not have been noticed by the keenest-eared sailor standing immediately above.

With our eyes still locked together, we turned our backs to the ocean. Gippal held out his empty right hand and I took it. I, who shy away from touches, took another man's hand for the first time in years and meant it. In the act of destroying the Judas pistol and its mate, Gippal and I had become brothers in a far more profound sense than those who rise from the same womb. We had pledged ourselves to one another in a silent ceremony more meaningful than the sharing of blood. We had merged our honor.

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Group Five has done the required duties attendant upon preparing the expedition members for sleep. Baralai and Paine have made the rounds of the sick and injured, healing and comforting. That wretched Recorder from Group Four is still sobbing. At least he has learned to muffle his grief or maybe he is running out of strength. Whatever, he is not so loud in his misery as he was at the beginning. No one seems to be near dying, so far as we can tell and everyone is fed and watered. Only another day and we will all be back on the mainland and Ixion alone knows what will happen then.

I have taken Baralai aside and expressed my gratitude for the fruits of his talents. He is still easily abashed but seemed pleased to be thanked in person. It is the least I can do for the services he has rendered. In matter of fact, I am becoming indebted to my team to an embarrassing degree. They have done more for me than I have given them. This is an improper balance for a leader and his men. I must find some way to address it before we are assigned to our separate commands. I do not wish to carry additional burdens along on my search.

I am curious to know just what the Maesters have planned – and I use the word advisedly – for their next step. They have managed to winnow out this collection of two dozen with great success. Will they reform us into equal units again or release those who have done so badly? Do they have the audacity to pretend any of this shipload, except my team, are fit to command so much as a kindergarten force? I can see the Crusaders now, faced with commanders of the quality of most of this mob. There would be slaughter in the captain's tent before the night fell. No, not even men as incompetent as these sanctimonious idiots would dare try such a stunt. They must be intending something else. Or – could it be they have not thought at all, that this is the best of their strategy? That they will land us on the shore, bid us a loving farewell and take to their heels. It would be no surprise if they did.

Enough of my idle, uninformed, futile poking. I shall follow the others above deck, take my evening medications and listen to the chatter of my brats until it is time for bed. Then I shall ...

Jul 22, 20055181296


	16. Chapter 16

**The Confessional**

Part Sixteen:

197S9.9.23

Still tossing around on this bloody boat. I have made an interesting observation. When she has been standing near the railing, Paine's skin feels like it has been sprinkled with fine sugar granules and she sparkles as though she has been coated with very small jewels. Then when I lick her shoulder, I can taste the sudden sharpness of salt. She is intoxicating at these times. I can never get enough.

A strange rumor is circulating this morning. After all these years of despising the the very concept of mechanical innovation and declaring the use of it is the sure and certain path to perdition, the spokesmen of Yevon seem to have fallen all of a heap and embraced machina as the salvation of the world. There is talk of a gigantic weapon, commissioned by the very highest of the priesthood and built by the most advanced engineers of the Al Bhed – now, there's a mixture made in a particular ingenious hell. This device is supposedly one so powerful and so destructive its very appearance will frighten even the current manifestation of Sin before blasting it to vapor and so do away with the temporary and inefficient Summoner pilgrimages. I wonder how Baralai feels about that? ... I have many doubts about this fairy tale. If such a thing existed, why would they wait for nine years to bring it into play? Why let Sin despoil the cities and villages for nearly a decade before using the weapon they have had at hand? The stories I am hearing say this thing has been hidden somewhere within the extensive properties of the priesthood for many, many years, that it was originally designed to destroy Sin and was not actively considered for use until now because of undefined questions. Supposedly it is being dragged out somewhere along the Mi'ihen highway and will be deployed there. No one seems to know exactly what this mighty weapon is supposed to do. Is it a gun? A bomb? A ray device? No descriptions, no explanations. It may be a giant automaton designed to wrap its arms around Sin and love him to death. Bah! I despise idle rumors. And I am curious as to how this rumor began.

Incidentally, I found one of the younger Maesters wandering alone last night. He is no more. So some of those whose bodies are now baking under the sands of Bikanel are avenged. That leaves five Maesters still on the ship. With their servants. It would be helpful to know what they think became of their missing member. Of course, people from the inland areas are prone to fall off slanting decks at sea. I have to place my cane with care to avoid having accidents of that sort myself.

The pathetic half-dead would-be soldiers below decks are all excited about the possibility of a grand new weapon which would destroy Sin without the need of another sacrificial offering of fighting men and women. They are dreamers. I do not know what the Mighty Philosophers of Yevon have in their plans now but any persons who could put so much stock in the Judas pistols cannot be planning an honorable way to end this current infestation of Sin. They have something nefarious to gain, mark my words. I just wish I could find who started this story and why.

Baralai has made his rounds and nobody who was under his care died during the night. Much to my astonishment, I must include myself in that register of the living. The medication works better each day. I do not have even the slightest touch of nausea and the pitching of the deck does not disturb me in the least. The lad could market these things in port cities and make his fortune. Of course, he needs to get them down to a somewhat smaller size if he expects women and children to be able to avail themselves of their benefits. The ones he made for me are big enough to swallow a small child rather than the other way about.

My team is very much at ease with one another this trip. The discomfort engendered by their greater understanding of who and what I am seems to have dissipated, a fact for which I am glad. I must be careful not to disturb their hopeful minds again. They still have faith, a luxury I long ago discarded.

Last night, we four lounged around on deck, enjoying the cool air and the sweet scent of the ocean air before bed. I don't remember how the topic came up but we fell to discussing airships. Paine is longing to fly on one. I didn't know she had that desire. I suppose that may be what will take her from me. The other two suggested, lightly, she would make a good pilot. I think they were teasing; with Gippal one is never certain. He claimed the job of engineer on any airship Paine piloted and Baralai, because he had read the stars with me to set our route in the desert, yelped he would be navigator. I had not joined in the game. I do not care for imaginary adventures; the real ones are quite enough to occupy my time and energies. Instead I was leaning on the railing, ruing the time which was passing more quickly than I might wish. They converged on me, demanding what part I would play in their dream. Paine touched my arm and, looking into my eyes, breathed the word 'captain'. That is what she sometimes calls me during our bouts of passion. I was surprised to hear her say it in that special inflection and tone before the other men, although they have called me that as well, and demurred. They insisted I would make a splendid captain since I looked the part and would not have to do anything except stand around and project authority. I muttered something inane about working them to death and that shut them up. Shortly after that, I took Paine by the arm and let her away to show her who her captain truly is. We both enjoyed the lesson. She takes much pleasure in being dominated at times. I think it is because she is so commanding in so many ways it comes as a relaxation for her to yield the reins to another and be controlled. Not always. We are very much equals in our appetites and the games we play in privacy are just that – games, conceived for our mutual delight. Her neck is four kisses long.

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I must exercise better discipline over my thoughts and more control over my tongue when I dictate into this device. That woman consumes a disproportionate amount of my time. Well, that idle chatter last night confirmed one thing – they have finally learned to think of me automatically as their leader. I no longer have to slap Baralai or bully Gippal to get the respect to which my rank and experience entitles me.

I have had a private talk with Baralai to ask him if he wants me to put in a request to have him assigned to either the medical or the chaplaincy corps when the testing is done. He has become a more than adequate fighter but I can see his heart is not in it and would help him into a more compatible slot if he wishes. He declined with courtesy and thanks, explaining that he and Gippal were going to try to get assigned to the same squadron if possible. Never underestimate the power of love. I did not disabuse him of the idea he and Gippal would have any say in the matter. Poor lad. He does not understand how a real army works and he is not likely to so long as he remains in the service of the Maesters. As he was leaving, he slipped a small parcel into my hand. When I opened it, I found a generous supply of the pain-relieving capsules. So that's what he was doing yesterday afternoon on the aft deck. I am touched by his concern.

Damn! I have led men before. I have spent my life leading men and women into war. None of the others ever affected me this way. Did Sin destroy something in me more vital than my limbs? Is it because this is so small a company? Cursed if I know. What I do know is I care for them; their safety is of great importance to me and I do not want to be parted from them, not even to take command of a full component of Crusaders. They have become something more than my comrades-in-arms, something I have not had for a very long time. I am unwilling to believe I am thinking this way but I do not want this to end.

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The food here is execrable. I cannot understand how sailors get fat. It takes a masochistic bent to eat enough of what comes from the accurately named 'mess hall' to sustain one's strength, let alone gain weight. Only this one more night and we shall be landed on firm ground again and be able to forage for something palatable. I am looking forward to Gippal and his miraculous way with cooking fires. Heh! I wonder to what part of the mainland we are sailing and if the foraging will be good. It will be pleasant to have something completely different to eat.

The sun is dropping below the waves as I stand here talking into this machina. I am usually impervious to the extravagantly admired beauties of nature but even I must confess there is something nearly magical about the sight of the glowing ball of our sun slipping into what appears to be a gigantic cauldron of water, casting reflections in all the colors the eye can distinguish across the undulating surface. Were I inclined toward belief in a divinity, I think I would choose this globe, the sun, as the object of my worship. It is indifferent to man while still offering examples of those qualities which best befit a man: stability, strength, consistency, protection. I wonder if the sun has honor... I wonder if the sun ever wants to extinguish itself in its nightly bath and have done with it? If it is ever tired of the endless round of duty ...

Paine!

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Another evening of comradeship on the deck. I think we shall miss these long evenings even if I do not miss the movement of the ship. It does not sicken me this time but I am uneasy in my footing and am anticipating the feel of the solid earth again.

We have talked at some length about the use of a legendary weapon in the current war. The hints which have circulated all day have made talking about it unavoidable. Gippal, naturally, defended it as not only a possibility but as the inevitable result of years of development by the Al Bhed who have been working on the creation of machina to take over the less satisfying jobs required of humans. They are obviously well on their way; they created me.

Baralai kept insisting the entire story must be a falsehood. He does not believe the forces loyal to Yevon will ever change enough to fully accept machina and most certainly not as super-weapons. He was willing to concede they have moved further than he would have thought toward the use of such devices as guns and – he gestured toward me and blushed. But, he maintained they will never use heavy munitions of a type not sanctioned by their deity. Paine amused herself by tossing in a word where it will have the most provocative affect and I? I have contented myself with recording the fact an argument took place. I do not permit myself to become enmeshed in politics or other idle disputes.

Later, the talk veered around to the subject of what peace might bring. None of us is old enough to have a clear memory of what happened immediately after the last Sin was conquered although we all can think back to before this most recent menace arose. I suggested there was a verifiable difference between a world newly at peace and one which had known peace for a number of years. It is my opinion that the inhabitants of a society recently delivered from danger behave with more care and circumspection than those who have largely forgotten what peril is like. As a Warrior, I fear the Calm will be a time of tedious caution without any savor. As one who is seeking Death, I dread a time when there is no honorable way or place to die.

When I expressed these sentiments, there was a great outcry from Gippal and Baralai who, separately and together, hooted it was incongruous that one such as I – a Taydrcaagan as they call me – should be concerned about being bored. They are illogical in their amusement. They have no concept at all of what my motives and feelings are. I cannot understand why they think it strange a man hunting an exit from life should dread the ennui of universal peace. What do they think made me choose to be a Warrior in the first place? Why do they think I was so glad to see the Sand-bear in front of me in the desert? They are a thoughtless pair – but they are young. Paine just looked at me. She has the unnerving ability to read my thoughts most of the time lately. I refused to meet her eyes. I know she thinks her failure to woo me from Death is an indication of the shallowness of my feelings for her. I am unable to tell her it is only her existence which has preserved mine. My tongue will not form the words my mind would have it say. Habit and training are too strong within me.

The pause was not so long as the time it has taken to relate the thoughts passing though my head during the silence. Gippal turned away and invited me to exercise with him and Baralai. It was said only in passing so I do not remember responding but stood by the railing, bathed in the breath of Paine.

Jul 24, 20055181296


	17. Chapter 17

**The Confessional **

Part Seventeen: 

197S9.9.24

This is the most absurd planning I have ever experienced. Each time I think this group of Uninformed Militarily Illiterate Blackguards can do nothing worse, they prove me a liar. After the unnecessarily brutal ship voyages to and from Bikanel, after the murderous slog across the vile desert of that Yevon-blighted land, after the compromise of my honor due to the quality of the dregs they took into their misbegotten excuse for an army, after all that – they land us back where we started – at the Mushroom Rock Road. I couldn't believe it when I saw those familiar cliffs looming as we approached land. Back at the Mushroom Rock Road! In the name of all the forgotten gods of this abandoned planet in this ignored universe, why here? What was the point of sailing us to the Island of the Masochists if only to return us to our starting point? Is this their idea of a sacred joke? Are we to be herded back on that rickety ship and transported somewhere else as they giggle and pretend it was all intended to work out this way? Or will they simply drive us back on board, sail out to deeper waters and scuttle the damned thing? I am a rational man and I can make no sense out of this action. If they wanted to train us hard, they could simply have chased us into the Thunder Plains or the Calm Lands and spared both them and us the ordeal of sweltering on that ... boat for days on end. They could have marched us up and down the Highroad for as long as seemed essential if a long walk was what they considered training. And done it without giving us water if they wanted to see how we responded to thirst. Damn them for a bunch of soft, stupid, slug-like psychopaths stooping at the shrine of Yevon. May their corrupt souls be eternally devoured by hordes of minute stinging fleas which will feast on that which is given them until the ends of time and the death of the moons.

I am afraid I became too free with my language this morning when I recognized our destination. It was bad form on my part. A captain should not curse in front of his men and I think I may have offended Paine. Or maybe not, I thought I noticed her giggling behind her hand when I turned suddenly to apologize. Well, at least I won't have to choke down any more of the capsules against the sea-sickness. I had begun to dread the sight of them even though I remain grateful for their good effects on my overall comfort.

Last night was a strange one. I cannot recall any time in my life when I have felt more a part of something outside my own skin. It was as though for a short time, I was a normal and ordinary man, uncontaminated by that driving force which has possessed me from my earliest memories. I felt at ease and, for a small miracle, laughter came without effort. Until just at the end when the talk of a Great Calm reminded me of all I have not done and must do.

Paine lay in my arms and we did not discuss the understanding which had passed wordlessly between us. I hope she knows I am giving her as much of myself as I can. Never before have I stayed with a single woman so long or with such contentment. She fulfills me in ways I had not known I was lacking. She would make me fully human if such a thing was possible any longer. Her unstinting acceptance of what I am and what the world has made of me lets me believe for however short a time that I am not the loathsome grotesque freak I know myself to be, that I am not totally repulsive to a woman of beauty and discernment. In her arms I am once again a complete man if only for the time I am permitted to stay in her arms.

I thought Gippal would hurt himself laughing when he, too, saw we had merely sailed in a circle. Baralai seemed somewhat alarmed at the way Gippal was hysterically howling from the sheer humor of the thing. The Alchemist appeared puzzled as if he had expected something different. I often wonder exactly how much of the mind-set of the priests and Maesters he absorbed during his time among them. It is not that I distrust him; he has proven himself completely loyal in many ways. It is that I am aware of how the infection which is Yevon can burrow its way into the mind and heart. And the lad had been under the influence of the pernicious religion for so long it would be surprising if he did not have some remnants of that sickness still within. So it is not abnormal that I should wonder just where he expected us to land.

Immediately upon our disembarking, I was told to keep myself in readiness for further orders. I have done so; I have also organized those whom I still consider my responsibility here along the road, distributing what supplies have been made available and I have cooled my heels to the sounds of feasting and much revelry from the tents of the Mighty Conquerers of the Sands of Bikanel. They are sparing themselves nothing while we, their myrmidons, wait their pleasure. Damn them to the hell of their own begetting. And they consider themselves the leaders of an army. They do not have the capabilities to lead a battalion of fleas along the limbs of their own unwashed bodies. Bah!

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I have been released from my duties to the larger group of those who traversed Bikanel and am from this moment responsible for only my own Group Five. The teams from the other destinations have landed and new teams have been formed from the survivors of the 'training' the Maesters imposed upon us. I cannot tell how many have died in all but the mass assembling along the road seems markedly smaller than the one which marched out all those days ago to such boasting and pomp. The Maesters seem pleased so they must have achieved their purpose of getting rid of a number of us one way or another.

As usual, the commands are to hurry up and wait. I am accustomed to that in the army but this crew of autocrats exceeds anything else I have ever known. It would appear we will not be given our fresh orders until the morning so I am leading my group to our old camping site where we have water and privacy. I think the ending of this venture is near and we should take advantage of our comforts while we can. Later, maybe we can walk down to the target field and exercise while occupying ourselves. I should like to see how much my aim has improved now that I have been regularly using a gun.

When I told the other three my proposals, they agreed with enthusiasm. Gippal immediately tackled poor Baralai and they engaged in an impromptu wrestling contest which the Al Bhed lost. He will never learn he can't beat the deceptively willowy Alchemist at hand-to-hand combat. Give the man a machina weapon and he is awe inspiring. Disarm him and he is not. Early training always shows in the end. Baralai was tutored in the basically non-lethal techniques from boyhood as part of his preparation for the priesthood. Gippal grabbed a gun in one hand and a knife in the other as soon as he cleared the birth canal. It is very amusing to watch them grapple. Gippal with his endless optimism and Baralai with his resigned competence.

Paine rarely indulges in their juvenile play any longer. She will take the time to drub Gippal occasionally and rubs Baralai's nose in the dirt when she thinks he needs it but she usually just bats them across the back of the head when they get too obstreperous. She is not a lady of endless patience. I wonder how much longer she will put up with me? I have a feeling we are overdue for a serious talk and I do not know how to initiate one. Pillow talk is no good for this; it cannot help but merge into more incoherence. Maybe we can meet by the pond and speak together. We'll see.

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There are few things more welcome than the opportunity to submerge one's entire body in a pool of cool clean water. Happily I availed myself of a good supply of the soap I prefer when I left the hospital. Since I am due to go back for what is euphemistically called a 'wellness check' in a few weeks, I should be able to replenish my stocks before they run too low. I feel as if I smell like me again. Gippal will replace the desert-grade lubrication in the machina limbs tonight with the more water resistant and durable type and I shall be ready for whatever the Maesters – may their bowels rot and drip from their lower orifices – have in mind.

Paine has agreed to join me here shortly. She will want a wash and then we shall sit and try to reach some sort of understanding about our relationship. I know I should have been more subtle in my statements but I am not a diplomat or a cozener. I don't know any way to introduce a subject except bluntly. So I just told her I thought we should talk about some things and she agreed. I am hoping that here, where we first learned one another, we can begin to explain the things which are pulling us apart. We usually see most things the same way ... I am blathering

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I am dazed and incoherent.

I hope I said the right things in the right way and that she understood what I was trying to say. I do not have the gift of a smooth tongue like Gippal nor an ingratiating manner like Baralai. I am what I am, a plain-spoken man with few charms and no persuasion. But I think she understood.

I do not believe a man such as I have become is capable of love and so I could not say the words to her that I hear other men say to their women. All I could do was make the effort to let her know how valuable she has become to me during these past weeks. I tried as best I could to tell her what it means to me to have her beauty in my arms and her body next to mine in the nights, how grateful I am for her acceptance of my scars, my temper, my bad behavior. How I shall miss her when she leaves and will be both the richer for having known her and the poorer for having lost her.

Above all, I tried to communicate as clearly as I possibly could the truth of my feeling for her. I told her she has been my reason for continuing to live, that without her I would have long ago found a way to stop my heart. That seemed to matter more to her than any other thing I said. She sat with her usual quiet concentration and did not shift her eyes from mine save to close her lids from time to time and crease her brow. I don't know what that meant and only hope I did not hurt her or cause her to doubt my sincerity. I am glad she did not cry but that might have meant she understood what I was so awkwardly trying to tell her.

When I had finished, she wrapped her arms around me and burrowed her head in the hollow where my right shoulder joins the neck and nuzzled there for a long time. I held her as tenderly as I could although I was raging to merge my whole body with hers and become one person finally and forever.

Then she told me. ... I did not know. I feel so stupid, so unspeakably dense not to have understood. I have never been loved before. Yes, I have had other lovers, some only for a night and some for longer. I have shared my bed and my body with women since I first became a man but this? No, never have I been given so magnificent a gift as this. She loves me. She told me about events earlier in her life, things I would never have asked her and would never have expected her to tell me. She opened her mind and soul, laying out all the treasures she has and offering them to me. I am humbled and ennobled at once. She loves me. I did not expect this and I am still vibrating like a struck harp.

I bent before her and kissed her feet, savoring the roughness of the desert calloused skin. Every inch of her is divine and flawless. She is a goddess made incarnate for my personal pleasure. I undressed her like an acolyte unveiling the image of a deity and eased her down on the fragrant grass and stroked her as though I was forming her out of the memory my hand has kept of her shape. I touched every part of her with my lips and my fingers, worshipping her as I relished her sweetness.

When I had shed my clothing as well, I gave myself up to her gaze and touch. We learned one another anew as if we had been strangers before this moment. Our coming together was like a melding of universes. We were protean, all things at once. And we were one, I felt every molecule of her; I became her. And she was become me. Time stopped and we lay wrapped in one another while ages passed, worlds were born and died, the stars flickered out and new ones were lit. She loves me.

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Other things took place in the afternoon. We went down the Road to the old Highway and found our target range still intact. We shot a few rounds. I did not pay much attention to how I did, being still focused elsewhere ... somewhere beyond. Gippal and Baralai cut their usual capers, rolling over the terrain like a pair of bull pups. We came back to this camp and made a meal of what the Al Bhed had caught during the day.

I moved through those hours like a man walking in a dream world. There is no knowing what the others thought of me, except Paine. She was at my side whenever I looked, more often than not looking back at me. We were isolated in a private, prismatic globe of understanding. I have never before in my life known anything like this. I am warm and content, all the bitterness drained and even life has a fresh fragrance and taste; it is the morning of the world. I feel like I could open my mouth and laugh so loudly and freely that the sky would echo it back in a great shout of joy which would transform the planet. My laughter could transmute Sin into a force for peace and happiness. It could bring the end of killing and war and misery and woe. I am the source and center of light, the epitome of all that is good. I am the sun and all the lights in the darkness. I am the moons and the silver glow on the white flesh of my love. I am alive and loved!

Now to the quiet pond in the shadowy glen. Now to the arms of my lady. I have so much to prove to her, so many assurances to make. I shall pray that the sun oversleeps.

Jul 27, 20055181297


	18. Chapter 18

**The Confessional**

Part Eighteen: 

197S9.9.25

Here we are again, rushed to a place we had to be immediately and then left standing around waiting for something to happen. I found a niche among the damp columns here and thought it would be a good time to catch up on recording what has transpired since yesterday. Paine is with me, tucked under my right arm, half listening to me natter and half-scribbling in her own notebook. We no longer have any secrets from one another. I do not mind if she hears what I say into this device; I will even let her browse though the entries if she wishes. She might be amused and pleased by the things I have said about her. Ah, it is good not to have to hide any longer. It is good to have her pressed against my side, to feel her breath and her heartbeat. I grow warm when I look at her or think about the last few hours. But enough of that – she is smiling up at me and I must force my mind back to my task.

Ahem - after a peaceful and most pleasant evening spend sleeping by the pool while Baralai and Gippal found their own place to rest, we were awakened near dawn by the histrionic panting of the usual messenger. He leaned against a rocky outcropping, clutching his side as though tortured by an unbearable stitch and held out the usual envelope with the usual bulging enclosure. While Paine splashed water on the fool in a helpful attempt to revive him, I read the message. We were ordered to report to the lower level of the main Mushroom Rock area within the hour. This simple command took four pages to say in the convoluted language of the temples.

Baralai had told us about this place at the time he found the case of pistols in this general locale but it seems there is a far larger labyrinth of mostly unexplored caves and dead-end passages down here than he realized. None of us has had the time or opportunity to familiarize ourselves with the terrain, but it looks to be the exact opposite to the desert - for which I am grateful. So is Paine. We have both had enough of sand for the while. And her skin is too fair and delicate to tolerate any more exposure to the sun or abrasion from wind-driven grains. But I digress, ... it's hard not to digress under the conditions. I must kiss her and send her away for a few moments so I can get all this properly set down.

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First, I want to clarify a personal matter in case I do not survive this test. For the first time since I became a man, I am moved to embrace life. Paine understands this and, I hope, realizes she is the cause. She has given me both reason and purpose and her promise to stay at my side makes death detestable. She has made me whole and I will not abandon her, not even for the goal I have sought my entire life. She must surely know this even if I have not told her in so many words. She understands me so well – better in many ways than I understand myself. I have stated this now – at this time, so that if I do not have an opportunity to tell her, Paine will know for certain that I was no longer hunting a place to die but wanted to stay with her. I did not want her to hear this nor do I choose to discuss it with her now lest I distract her from her own defenses. We must all be alert if we are to avoid the traps I am certain have been laid for us in this latest game.

Having said that, I must now record what has occurred in the world outside our cocoon of sanity. As I noted, we were wakened early and directed to this unfamiliar location within the lower levels of the Mushroom Rock Road. We, all of us – the reformed remnants from our six groups as well as those who survived the other venues – were gathered in a small open arena of sorts and shown the entrance to a cave. We were told there was something in there we were supposed to investigate. We are not to kill whatever it is, but only investigate and report back. Oh, and the same rule of competing for supplies is in effect as was ordered at the beginning of the other training event. Those two orders trouble me. Why not kill whatever is infesting the cave? Is it one of the unquestioning followers of the Maesters pretending to be a monster and given permission to slaughter every one of us for some arcane reason? And why are not sufficient weapons and other equipment supplied for all of us? With so many already dead or out of action, there is surely enough to arm and outfit those of us who remain. This sounds oddly like another ploy to further thin the already decimated ranks of the survivors of the first round. Are they intent on winnowing us down to a single man? This, from a military point of view, is irrational but when were the Immoral Servants of the Mind of Yevon ever overburdened with reason? I am now once again glad we spend so much time scavenging. Each of us, including our Recorder, is fully and properly armed. We have everything we need to prevail in a humid cave as well we did in the desiccating atmosphere of a desert. We are well trained and supportive of one another. There is no reason for us to dread this next foolish trial – which is promised by our masters to be the last. But I shall insist Paine stay behind me where my body can protect her even if it does prevent her from getting the camera angles she wants. She must stay safe!

I am drifting off topic again. When the above instructions had been given there was a disruption amongst the Maesters, a hurried conference and we were told to draw back from the cave entrance and await further orders, which is what we are doing just now. Again.

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197S9.9.26

I am not altogether sure where we are. We are camping in a hidden cul-de-sac, not exactly camping – more like sleeping rough. We have been fleeing through the time of darkness and, exhausted, have found this refuge to wait out the dangerous full light of day, just as we did in the desert. Except it is not the heat we are sheltering against now; it is the pursuit of a deadly enemy, one apparently set on our extinction. We are reasonably safe from discovery, here in this canyon protected by a narrow passage choked with underbrush. We are all here, intact so far. During this enforced rest, I shall try to record what has happened to bring us to this pass. I am not sure how much I can explain because there is much which remains a mystery to me. I hope the others can do better than I. Surely their memories are not also in such turmoil.

We were on the lower level of an area on Mushroom Rock Road. We had come to the place where the narrow passage from the Road proper opens out into that wide section with the heights and the depths, the one with the floating rocks marked with glyphs. From there we had descended a natural staircase into an underworld maze of tunnels and chimneys. The Maesters told us our final test was to go inside a certain cave and investigate the fiend or whatever it was which lurked within. Any who came out with a satisfactory report would be accepted into the Crimson Squad and be assigned to command a Crusader unit. It made no sense but that was what they said and so we went into the cave. I placed Paine behind me so she would be protected and to hell with her camera angles. There were other Recorders present. I wanted her safe.

The first thing I noticed inside the cave was the presence of pyreflies. They provided the only light. I wondered at that and looked around to see if there were fresh corpses which might have given rise to the creatures. I saw none at that time, only a series of interconnected chambers with darkness in their depths.

The other candidates were scuffling amongst themselves, trying to wrestle arms from one another. That was another thing – we were supposed to fight for the available weapons and supplies, just as we had been instructed to do in the desert. Because I have good night vision, better than my day vision to be honest, I was able to see our team was not involved in the fighting. We had made sure we were very well armed before we reported for the trial. And we kept together, away from the others in the cave. I could feel Paine's breath on my back as we progressed into the dimness and was reassured by her presence. Then there was gun fire and the flashes from muzzles added to the light of the pyreflies which was increasing and, for an instant, everything was clear. The ones who had entered the cave with us had turned their weapons on one another and were firing with deadly accuracy. Suddenly the low area stank of powder and blood. I led the four of us in another direction, around the bodies lying sprawled on the rocky floor.

This is getting hard to relate; everything is confused in my mind from this point. I think we walked a long way in, away from the others and the shooting. After some time, we saw clouds of pyreflies again ... or was that before I thought I heard a snarling and became aware of a brooding monstrous presence? I can't remember exactly. I think I said something about all the dead bodies releasing the pyreflies or maybe it was Gippal or Baralai. It is so mixed up. There were so many of the things, great masses of them, looking like fiends roiling the air, taking grotesque shapes; they were blinding me. It was hard to breathe and then ...

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Sorry, that was unlike me. Paine has persuaded me to lie back against the rock and drink some water. At least we have plenty of water, not like in the desert. There are springs all around the highroad and it is easy to refill the canteens and the fiends are weak too. No problems. ... I am blathering. I must finish this report. It is important. I don't know where we are headed, only that it must be away from the Maesters who want to kill us. Why can't I concentrate?

Where was I? Oh, yes ... the pyreflies. I saw out of the corner of my eye a great nearly solid clot of them nearing me, almost as if they were aiming at me personally and then they were consuming me. I did not know they could penetrate into the orifices of a living body. My mouth and nose and throat were filled with them. They smashed against my spectacles and then into my eyes. The sound of them filled my ears, all my senses. They were like needles of ice stabbing into me and then melting and with their assault all my joy and new happiness dissolved like another sheet of ice and I was filled with the familiar fear, regret and despair which had been my companions for so long. I could not be sure if the pyreflies were entering me or leaving. For a moment, I thought I was seeing my own death and I was glad. Paine, I didn't ... I was overwhelmed, shaking with cold, and felt myself falling then my mind began to divide, to split into two parts. ...

Sorry. As best I can describe what happened, I felt as though I had two entities battling in my head. Two beings fighting it out as to which would dominate. No, that is not quite right. How to explain? I knew who I was but what else was I? I fought as hard as I could, trying to hold the part that ... Thank you, Paine. Thank you. I'm all right now.

I heard a pistol drop to the floor. Why had I dropped a pistol? Was it I who dropped the pistol? I did not remember drawing one. I had no memory of the feel of one in my hand. I had slumped to the ground and was being hauled to my feet by Gippal and Baralai. I am sure it must have been an absurd sight for someone of my height and weight to come staggering out of that place, leaning on the shoulders of my smaller teammates. Paine had hooked my cane over her arm and was continuing to record what she could. Outside the damnable cave, when I had partly regained my senses, I hastened to eradicate the image in so far as I could by issuing orders and gathering Group Five together to confer on what had taken place. We had only a moment to ourselves before the Maesters summoned us to make our report to them.

This was not like lying to them about the Judas pistols. We had not had time to agree on a story and I, at least, did not know what had really happened in that hell hole. I was shaken and, as Baralai later confirmed, in shock. That is no condition for the leader of a team to be in when his group is called upon to report to the authorities. The others stalled as long as they could to give me time to recover. Paine slipped my cane back into my hand so that I could keep my balance and my dignity whilst facing the Maesters. We all did as we had become accustomed to doing - we defended one another. ... I'm not sure I'm telling this in the right order. It is all mixed up in my memory. I keep feeling I am forgetting something. Yes, Paine, I'll rest for a little while and finish this later.

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I have taken a brief nap and am less exhausted. We made our report to the Maesters. I told them about the way I felt when surrounded by the pyreflies. I would not have been so open had I not been in shock. It was entirely unlike me to use emotionally charged words in a formal report. The others on the team confirmed the psychological effect of the pernicious creatures and the appearance of a shadowy figure which appeared at about the same time as well as the form of a huge shape which growled like a beast. I had forgotten that first vision until they mentioned it and then I had a mental image of a fog-mantled wraith moving before the looming backdrop of the lowering snarling object I had dimly glimpsed and could not distinguish. It was just a glancing memory and I still cannot pull it into greater focus. I shall keep trying.

The Maesters seemed as puzzled as we although I fancy I caught a look of disappointment in their eyes, but they commended us and pronounced us winners in the race to become members of the Crimson Squad. As our first assignment in that exalted position, we were directed to go off to the main headquarters and protect the other Maesters and their entourage, against what or whom we were not told. Both Baralai and Gippal clapped one another on the shoulder and swaggered away, well pleased with themselves. It was like watching a sphere play itself out. I was present and hearing all that was said but it was as if I was simultaneously elsewhere, divorced from the activities in which I was taking part. Time seemed to stretch. I could feel no joy in attaining the goal for which I had aimed. My feelings were flat, not even the touch of Paine, who placed her hand on my arm, could call any response from me. What poison had those needles of light injected into me?

Then Paine jerked away and I heard gunshots and shouting and I was immersed in darkness. ... Later, I'll finish this later. I can't remember right now.

Jul 31, 20055181297


	19. Chapter 19

**The Confessional**

Part Nineteen: 

197S9.9.25

I will finish this report. I am not so weak as all that. There is not much more to go. ... Baralai and Gippal were congratulating one another, cheered by their acceptance into the Crimson Squad. Paine was holding my wrist and guiding me away from the area of the cave when she made a sudden move and shouted. At just that instant, I heard the ricochet of projectiles off the pillars and stones of the labyrinth. Someone had begun to fire weapons at us and we had to flee. I was half-blinded by the darkness at the edges of my vision, limping worse than ever and vertiginous if I moved my head too quickly. Yet somehow – with the help of the others – I managed to escape the attack. I tried to urge them to go ahead at their more rapid pace but they would not leave me behind. I vaguely remember stumbling up the shallow stone staircase and being pulled from cover to cover until we had opened a sufficient gap to let us pause to catch our breaths. I drew Paine to me and, from her lips, drank comfort and reality. After a brief rest I had recovered my vision and balance to a great extent. We then proceeded in a less frenzied state to this sheltered space.

So for some reason the Maesters had set us up as targets. There is no question the attempt was made to slaughter us all, including Paine. This is not only intolerable, it is unreasonable. What did we see in that cave they did not mean us to see? And, why, if we were meant to see nothing, did they send us inside in the first place?

We have made an effort to correlate our memories of exactly what we did see. I have dug as deeply as I can and have recalled a few more scenes. Just before the glitter of the pyreflies blinded me, I saw the pale, almost translucent figure of a young man, about Gippal's age and seemingly a little taller, stroll in front of me. His hair was colorless and his vacantly staring eyes locked on mine, then he swept his arm forward as though directing a pack of predators to their prey.

Behind him, at the furthermost limit of my focus, I could dimly make out a massive, inhuman form. I could not tell if it moved or if what looked like motion was only an illusion born of the shadows and fugitive light. I heard a low rumble, a menacing growl which seemed to emanate from this object and I was seized with an irrational fear. ... That is all I can remember before the arrows of light pierced me and I sank beneath an onslaught of despair.

The most confusing and disheartening thing I learned from the others was that I did aim a gun at my teammates. They are downplaying the event, saying they could tell something was wrong and the incident was quickly de-fused with nothing coming of it. Still, what possessed me to make me behave like that and not know it? Am I losing my ability to think and reason? Am I going mad? That is enough cause for me to wish extinction. I hope it was only a transitory event and when I left the place of darkness and pyreflies I left it all behind. I must keep very careful rein on my actions now.

The others confirm most of what else I recall with the differences always attendant upon differing observations. They seem to think there was some poisonous atmosphere within the cave complex which produced a sort of temporary insanity. I hope they are right. None of us knows the whole truth, but it seems likely each of us has a fragment of the reality of the infestation. Now, if we can only piece it together and force an answer. Why do I still feel I am not fully in control of myself? What did the pyreflies do? They did not attack the others – so they tell me. Why was I chosen as their target?

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There is no longer any practical reason for me to keep this journal. I started it as a record of the malfeasance of those set above us. Now, I have no idea to whom this news would be either new or interesting. I do not know how much of the regular army is under the command of the Yevonites. They had used the machina question to divide the forces and keep the military in a constant state of upheaval. I think they have probably continued this technique and refined it so that there is no one sufficiently powerful body to oppose them. So, to whom would I present my case against these cynical and arrogant men? All these notations of the maltreatment of trusting recruits is so much wasted effort. I should, by all rights, toss this device into the nearest bog and be done with it.

I know I won't do that. There is too much of value to me personally scattered amongst the complaints and formal reports. There is the story of how four widely differing people learned to trust and to depend on one another. There is the unlikely tale of the woman who loved a monster and was, in turn, cherished by the half-man. Somewhere in this battered object is the revelation of how I became almost human again in spite of the physical freak the vivisectionists made of me. I'll keep it, if for no other reason than to remind me of what changes have occurred and why. I fear I am growing sentimental. It's all the fault of Paine. Hah!

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It is afternoon and clouds are gathering in the west. The night should be dark and provide us with a safe cover under which to move. We are gathering together what few supplies we managed to hold on to during our hasty exit and are making preparations for getting under way as soon as the shadows are deep enough. Gippal has done me the service of attending to these disgusting appurtenances I am forced to drag about with me. I suppose I must set this down for it may be important. When he was renewing the oil in my leg, I thought I could feel it trickle across the until now nerveless stump of my thigh. I almost twitched at the sensation and it took very firm control not to react. I don't know why I am hiding this from him; he would be interested to know of it but I think my habit of secrecy still keeps a powerful grip on me and I remain uncomfortable revealing too much about myself.

We shall sleep for a while and then set out on our path to wherever we are going. It is my job to set a destination and I am not certain. There does not seem to be anywhere we can be sure of finding refuge since we do not know who our enemy is or why we are being pursued. I am operating on instinct, working our way toward Luca so that we may be able to lose ourselves in the crowds which fill the city. Not I, of course, I shall never be able to hide in plain sight again, but the others should be able to take refuge there until a better solution can be found.

I continue to be bothered by the incomplete memory of what happened in the cave. The Monsters of the Temples expected something to take place and it did not work out as they expected. That much is clear from the expressions on their faces when we related our stories. We must continue to press our minds for more detail. Maybe if we can gain some idea of what really happened we will be able to deduce what the Malodorous Miscreants thought would occur. There has to be a reason for all this. There must be a purpose behind their deliberate destruction of the majority of the army they recruited with the promise of training them to be leaders. And why did they send us improperly armed and prepared into that cave to turn on one another like a pack of fiends? And why try to assassinate the four of us there at the end? What was the purpose of the pyreflies which invaded me and what did they do to me? I do not have enough facts; I am going to bed – with Paine.

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Ah Paine, my cornucopia of pleasure! Lying in her arms, I can escape the thoughts which constantly bedevil me. The heat of her mouth and the touch of her hands transport me to a condition of euphoria far removed from the world in which I chased my own death. I have a strong need to tell her exactly that – that she has seduced me from my dark mistress. That I am in thrall to her alone.

She bestowed upon me the caress I find most intoxicating. Sometimes when she does this and drives me to the Little Death from which one returns more alive than before, I feel I may well meet my true dying in the tumultuous release it brings. I fall into darkness and lose my senses for a while; then I hear her soft laugh of triumph and sweep her up into my embrace and am wholly alive again.

She likes the touch of my left hand. She explained to me once how the always cool feel of the machina on those most heated parts of her body creates a whirlwind of excitement as nothing else has ever done. Because I fear hurting her, I am careful to prepare her for my entry and use those cold fingers to gently stretch her until I can tell she is ready. I have to move slowly lest she achieve her climax before she has experienced the whole of what I can give her. It is worth it for when we join, we are both united in our passion and, more often than not, find our fulfillment simultaneously. We have assured one another we are inventing new ways to scale those erotic heights. But then, I suspect all lovers think they have discovered the hidden, perfect ways of loving. Still the look on her face and in her eyes when we have made one person of two is unique in my memory. I can drown in her.

And, as with Gippal's ministrations, I seemed to feel her touch on the heavily scarred parts, on the places where the machina are inserted into my flesh. I was told by the surgeons those areas would never have feeling again because the nerves were destroyed but I could almost swear I felt her finger-tips and lips on my thigh and my shoulder. If this continues, we must try some experiments to see if it is truly so. ... If we can find a way to be together long enough for such games.

When we lay finally exhausted and relaxed together, she blew softly against my ear and begin telling me something surprising. It seems she, Gippal and Baralai had a private conference on the boat that last day while I was otherwise occupied. Each of them had conceived a thought separately and when they became aware of the similarities in their thinking, they decided to formalize their ideas. They want the four of us to stay together as a group under my leadership. They are such innocents! They do not understand the way of armies. Soldiers have no choice in where they go, with whom, or what they are to do. However, the events of the past day have recast that pattern. I must learn to think in a new way. We are no longer soldiers of Yevon but fugitives from his followers. Alas, this does not alter the basic facts. We dare not stay together much longer. If the Maesters are still looking for us, our group stands out as though spotlighted. Just my presence alone is a sure marker. We must split up soon in order to seek safety. I must find my own way in order not to betray any with whom I travel. There are so many plans to make and I am responsible for all of us. And all the plans.

Still, the testament of devotion is touching. I heard when we landed back here on the mainland, the remnants of the six groups which had gone to Bikanel expressed a desire to follow me if I would have them. That was inspiring as well. I now wish I had accepted their fealty. It might have been the germ of an army. And I am sorely tempted to tell the other three here that I will take the command they offer and we will form a guerilla troupe to harass and torment the people of Yevon where we can. But I must not be selfish. I have no wish to lead these cherished few to their end. Not Paine, not Gippal, not Baralai. They must survive in order to bring down the rotted empire of the temples and cleanse Spira of this taint. We must find some way to spread the word and bore from within. Gippal can rally the Al Bhed. Baralai, who has shown a surprising gift for dissembling, could easily pretend to repent and be accepted into the faith again, there to play the agent provocateur. And Paine, what of Paine? I must send her away but to where? Where will she be safe? When I think I have solved one problem, fresh ones appear in line. If I keep her with me, my very presence will endanger her. There is no other man on Spira like me. What am I to do? I shall court inspiration and hope it will visit. Note to self: be sure to find an occasion to tell Paine what you need to say. You owe her this before you have to part.

Aug 3, 20055181296


	20. Chapter 20

A/N – This is the latest of the entries I have transcribed from the battered communication device I discovered in that strange cache in the Calm Lands. I have not yet been able to check if there are any more recent recordings still unheard. Later, when my more urgent duties are completed, I shall try to return to this and make a hard copy of any other items of interest. I have no idea what happened to Nooj and his companions. Theirs seems to have been only a small part of the great Religious Wars which swept the world a century ago. However, it is often by looking at the microcosmic we understand the whole. So I do not feel the time I have spent preserving this data has been wasted.

**The Confessional**

Part Twenty:

197S9.9.27

I am more myself again. My mind is functioning more efficiently. I remembered a long neglected path I had taken during my cadet days in the Crusaders, one which parallels the Mi'ihen Highway. I surmised none of the Temple forces would know about it and led our little band that way. It is not a easy route, involving as it does a precipitous winding trail down from the Highway proper to the gullies and such which run alongside. When I was a cadet, I did not find it strenuous but I must admit it was never designed for use by a cripple and, without the help of the others, I would have fallen more times than would have been good for me. Once we had found the largely over-grown marks of a usable trail at the bottom, I felt more confident. This path runs a circuitous route at least as far as Rin's Travel Agency which is about half the distance to Luca. It is much longer than than the main road but also much safer. We are below the line of sight and unlikely to be spotted by any searchers following the usual road especially since Baralai took the time to eradicate the signs of passage at the place we began our descent to the hidden path.

I think we will continue to move mostly in the twilight and evening hours simply as an additional note of caution. Items are far harder to distinguish in the fading light and it would be absurd to be captured or killed after all this time and effort. My plan is to rest here in this little meadow for the daylight hours. We have water and shade here and are screened from the overhead view by the trees which have sprung up. After a rest, we shall proceed on and attempt to reach the Travel Agency by sunset. We can restock our supplies there – Rin is Al Bhed – and decide how to split up. I am still not sure of what to do with Paine. She will want to stay with me, I know, and she must not. I shall advise the lads to take separate ways but have no doubt they will ignore me. They claim to want me to lead them but will not obey a simple, logical order like that! Hah!

I must talk seriously with Paine and try to come to a decision as to her future. I can exert no personal authority over Baralai and Gippal but surely I have some control over my own lover, my cherished mistress. Probably not. She is a stubborn woman and feels competent to manage her own destiny. We shall see.

When I say I am more myself again, I also mean the despair and wretchedness I felt during the onslaught of the pyreflies has mostly dissipated and I am once again aware of the enormous gift Paine has given me. It is a rare thing to be the object of unconditional love and I wish I had the capacity to return it. I feel toward her more strongly and tenderly than I have ever felt toward any human before and I suppose that must suffice for one of my inadequacies.

There is one other thing which still bothers me. I think I am having blackouts of some sort. There are sections missing from my recent memory as there are in my recollections of the cave. No one has made any reference to odd behavior on my part although I think I notice a puzzled glance now and then. That may just be my imagination. Still, it is troubling not to be able to assemble a complete memory of what one did and said over a certain period of time. It is probably just the aftereffects of the cave miasma which must have acted more strongly on me than on the others. ... Unless they, too, are having this problem and none of us wants to mention it to the others. I have seen nothing unusual in their actions. Should I ask?

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I have told the others the plan I propose and have heard no argument. Of course I did not tell them about the incipient separation of the group, only setting the Travel Agency as our destination this evening. I have advised everyone to get as much rest as possible because the next leg of this walk, while short, lies through difficult territory and will be tiring.

Since we will be parting before we sleep again, I had better take the opportunity to tell Paine those things I want her to be sure to know.

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There is a globe of happiness surrounding me, isolating me from the thoughts of separation and loneliness. I drew Paine apart to a pleasant little glade I had found near a small stream which murmured like music as it flowed over a bed of rounded stones. It seemed a good place for a talk, secluded and enclosed. After we had washed the dust of the road from our bodies and were lying on the grass to dry in the soft air, I told her what I had intended to say to her – that I was not now Taydrcaagan but was redeemed by her devotion. I told her I would no longer try to find death but would try instead to find a way to live so that we might be together. She made a little whimpering sound, then wrapped herself around me and, with her head on my chest, began to cry. It was the first time I have ever seen her shed a tear but I could feel the hot moisture fall on my skin and I petted her, trying to comfort her. Then I tipped her head back so I could see her face and she was glowing with joy – I did not know tears could mean that as well as sorrow.

When I saw her face, looked into her eyes, I felt my body react to the blazing fire I found there. I hardened against her and my breath quickened. I watched the response to my excitement flash across her countenance as, without a word, she quickly moved to impale herself upon me with no regard for readiness. I felt her heat encompass me and was immediately absorbed into her frenzied need. We clutched one another with a desperation which found us driven nearly mad with desire, with the effort to become united in one skin, one body, so that we would never be alone again. We clung together with such intensity that blood mixed with other fluids and we marked one another with scratches and bite marks as tokens of the fierceness of our passion. In the red-blackness of my world, I heard Paine cry out her triumphant pleasure, her shout of joy, as grasping her wrists, stretching her arms above her head and pinning her beneath my weight, I exploded in her most secret places, filling her with my own victory before collapsing, panting on her breast.

If the others heard, let them! 

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I am alone.

It is over. There is only darkness.

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I must make the effort to tell what has happened. I have persevered all this time, relating both the good and the shameful. I must not falter now. If this is ever heard by another, the end must be told. It is a part of the story. I am not so great a coward as to stop before the end.

We left the place of our final camp, the place where Paine ... Paine and I so fiercely coupled ... and set out on the path to the the Travel Agency where Rin held sway. It was hard going so we did not talk much. The sun was low in the sky when I spotted the trail leading up to the main Highroad and led the way.

We emerged at a clearing across from the Agency and, looking at the others, I decided to let them recover their breaths and organize their thoughts before forcing them to recognize the necessity of taking our individual ways. They sprawled on the ground or wandered about aimlessly for a while - most of the time, the area around the Travel Agency is neutral ground and hence, safe. After a while when they seemed less exhausted, I called the other three to me and told them we must separate in order to save at least some of us. No one wanted to hear this and there was a brief squabbling but it was decided I was right and the work to overthrow Yevon and his priesthood – principally the Maesters - was greater than our personal wants and needs. Gippal and Baralai would try to escape together but if that proved to be too dangerous, they would make their own individual ways to Luca and re-unite there. Paine was stiffly silent as I told her to take refuge with Rin. He may be Al Bhed but he is a gentleman and would protect and assist her. Her eyes glittered and she just kept shaking her head and clutching her camera as though it was a talisman. I pulled her to me and kissed her before I turned to leave.

I kissed her before I killed her ...

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I have only flashes of what came after that. Standing with the other men. Moving without my cane. Holding a gun. Firing. The feel of the sphere-camera lens against my palm. Paine's eyes - as wide as oceans. Falling. Drowning.

I was standing in the dust, a gun dangling from my hand. I could see Paine lying not far away, blood on her white skin. I flung the weapon away and fell to my knees at her side. I could not touch her at first. It was not real ... she was not sprawled there like a broken toy. If I did not touch her, it was not real. ... I remember throwing my head back and howling into the fading sun, then I gathered her into my arms. Her head fell back limply and her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open and no breath lifted her breast. I pulled her to me and called her name. Nothing. I kissed her lids, her mouth, her throat. She did not stir. She is dead and by my hand. It cannot be otherwise. I was there with a gun and she is dead from a wound. I love her and she is dead!

I looked around for the other two. They were lying side by side a little way off, blood seeping into their garments. Why? They were all dead and I must have done it. I was the only one who could have done it. Why? Why had I killed them all? The three humans who were closest to me in my entire life and I slaughtered them like fiends in the wilderness. There was no need to check Gippal and Baralai; I have seen death often enough to recognize its presence and I could not bring myself to release Paine from my arms. It was only my arms which kept her warm. ... She must not grow cold. ... I love her. I wish I had been able to tell her how much I love her while she could still hear me. Now I know I am capable of love. I will not use the past tense because I love her yet. I love her...

She was an unexpected gift in my life, one I did not sufficiently appreciate or deserve. My stubborn pride tormented her when I could have made her happy. She was more courageous than I have ever been in her willingness to risk everything on so chancy a throw as to love me. And her devotion has brought her to this. Why? Is it still the curse of the pyreflies and whatever lethal aura permeated that cave and now infests me? Or was it the innate madness of my essential self manifesting again? Why Paine? Out of the four of us, why could she not have been the one spared? Why did I do it?

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I was more than half way to Luca, lurching like a drunk in the middle of the High Road before I was able to think coherently again. Whatever had caused the event, it was done and could not be undone. That part was over. I must put it aside and follow the path before me. I am Nooj the Undying, the champion of the Crusaders, the Deathseeker. There is no softness in my life and I shall seek my quietus on the battlefield as soon as I can find an honorable place and time.

I left them there, all of them, in the dust of the clearing. There was no more I could do for the bodies. Paine ... Her hair falling over her face. I laid her straight so that she would be beautiful when she was found. I am not sure but I think I wept. No! I do not weep! The crimson eyes closed. Her mouth ...

The incident at the Travel Agency was part of a separate world, one in which I made the effort to become as other men and abjectly failed. I am the half-machina creation of the engineers and the vivisectionists, the limping machine designed only for killing. My destiny is laid out like a straight road on a flat map. There are no byways, no other paths to follow. I am the monster of death. I do not love. I destroy.

I found a small packet of capsules in my pocket. They are gold in color with little seed-like objects suspended inside. I vaguely remember they were meant to be used to ease severe pain. Well, I will not be needing them anymore. Nooj the undying Taydrcaagan does not permit pain to exist. Paine ...

I have dropped the capsules into the ditch by the road. They are hidden there and will rot.

Aug 9, 20055181297


End file.
